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PERIOD! qgipjjy^^i^i 






51 C12 



Form 3427 


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in 2010 with funding from 

San Francisco Public Library 




October 1891, to flay 1892 



Vol. I 


Copyright, 1892, by The Cai.ifornian Publishing Company 

from the press of 

The San Francisco Printing Company 

411 Market Street, s. F. 

38933 INDEX 


The Californian Illustrated 

VOL. 1. 


AcoMA, The City of the Sky Charle. F. Lnmmu (2)31 

Illustrated from photographs taken by the author. 

^^'""'^-'^SuXfby new map^«.e first showing the Davirtson Rauge'^a'nd from photographs. ' " " ' " 
AI.ONE, A SONNET Gharlcs KiclyShetterly . . f^^ 


AVith illustrations of highbinder emblems and relies, never before published, and photo- 
(jraphs of typical highbinders. 
An Old Los Angeles Garden. (See article "Los Angeles," page 1.) 

Frontispiece (facing page 1). . , t^ -i-i 

Analytic Fictions Questi^nsoJ the Day . . oil 

Antelope, Hunting the C7mr^es Fredenck Holder. 209 

Astronomy. (See Lunar Crater Copernicus— New Star of 1892.) 

At Monterey Bay, Poem Virna Woods (^)-^ 

AVAYKN, Poem <-^^^>'^'" ^' ^"'"""^ ^^ 

BvLM vcEDA and THE REVOLUTION IN Chili Questions of the Day... (2)10^ 

Bavaria and the Tyrol ,' v ' ' ' , ^^- ^'- ^"''"' ""' 

Illustrated bv engravings and from photographs. , rr , 7 of 

Birds, The AVooing of the Charles Fredenck Holder 84 

Blessed Cora of San Luis Key, The Jeanne V. Carr tu 

Illustrations by H. H. Sherk. 

B.UK A.GE. o. Ei,Bi™.BOB., THE, A Stobv ''tl^Iln'vX? : '"' 

Book Reviews. (See " New Books.) 

BOYS' brigade, The Questions ^ the Day . .4 

-r, . . Theodore 31. CopeJand . . -iJO 

Bruin ;•■■,■•:, 

Illustrated from sketches by the author. 

Cabrillo, The Voyage op (I-II complete) ^*^'' .'•^. ^'"(2^00, 215 

California. . 

Forests of ^^^'^"^ Kinney, Ex-Chair- -^^^ 

Illustrated by paintings from nature and photographs. man Forestry Commts n 

^^^,^ ^^ Ruthella Schnltz Bollard.. 293 

Illustrated from photographs. , , t^ hi 

Old Missions Of Questionsofi^^e^ 

Q^.^g -j^ Hon. Ellwood Cooper . . . (2)51 

Illustrated from photographs. ^ „ , ., ,ici 

^ . .3/. C. Frederick 451 

\\^th full-page and other ■illustrations; taken from photographs of orange groves and 
exhibits at the Los Angeles Citrus Fair. 



California — Continved ' p^^,^ 

Presbyterianisni in ...... . Rev. Robert Mackenzie . . . 426 

With numerou-s portraits and illustrations of ehiirche.s and other Presbyterian institutions. 
Progress of Questions of the Day 222 

Eedwood Industries of ... ^ George D. Gray . . .'. 491 

Illustrated trom photo.irraphs. ' 

See also Southern California— Pacific Coast. 

California CLnrvrE w^it^,. Lindley, M. I)., 

See also " .salton Sea." , _ Ex-President Cah State 

Medical Society 54 

California Colony, A Ij.„,. //. b. Hayvard. . . . 198 

Illustrated from photo.iirHi)hs. "^ 

California Deer Hunt, A Theodore S. Van Dyke ... 72 

California Weather, A Cyclonic Glimpse of Lieut. John P. Finlev, 

^^^^^^*^'^^^**- U.S. A (2)17 

California's Opportunity Young, Vice-Pres- 
ident World's Columbian 

Exposition 15 

Channel of Santa Barbara, Poem ; Juliette Estelle Mathis 254 

Chili, Recent Eevolution in George L Duer U S N 881 

Illustrated by photographs taken on board the llagship San Francisco. ■ ■■ 

Trouble with Questions of the Day 223 

China, The Recent Disturbances in Frederic J. Masters, D.D., 

Illustrated from paintings and photographs. ^up't of Chinese Mission 314 

Chinese Slavery Questions of the Day, . . 110, 223 

Chinese Slavery in America. (See " Stain on the Flag, A.") 

Christmas at Ledger's, A Story "! . (Jeorqe Brooke (2)75 

Full page illustration by Harnier. ... V-;'" 

City of the Sky— Acoma Charles F. Lummis (2)81 

Illustrated from photographs taken by the author. ■ ■ \ / 

Cliff House in the Canon De Chelle. { See article ' ' Some American Ruins " ) 193 

Frontispiece (facing page 11.5). ' 

Climates of Southern California p. C. Remondino, M. D. (2,68 

Climbing SNo^y-CovERED Shasta George Hamlin Fitch. ... 283 

Illustrated from paintings and photographs. 

Congress, The Fifty-First E.v-Gov L. A. Sheldon ... 164 

Copernicus The Lunar Crater Edward S. Holden . 227 

Illustrated from photographs. 

Crocker, Col. Chas. F. (Sketch of.) Men of the Day 171 

Cross-Country Riding F. F. Rowland, M. D... (2)1 

Illustrations by A. F. Harmer. • ■ V-;^ 

Cyclonic Glimpse of California Weather Lieut. John. P. Finlev 

'^'^'^'^^^^^- U.S. A ^(2)17 

Deer Hunt, A California Theodore S. Van Dyke. . . 72 

Democratic Party, The Actions Of Questions of the Day 221 

Desert Sea The H.N. Rust 94 

Illustrated from photographs taken tor The Califoknian. 

Diaz President The Escape of Andrew Brown 306 

vi 1th portraits. 

Dogs I Have Known Some. . Charles Frederick Holder 443 

Illustrated by photographs from life. 

Dry Tortugas During the War, At the ..A Lady's Journal, I-IV, 

luustrated from war-time photographs. (2)87 179 274 397 585 

" El C.\non de la Vieja," A Story Don Arturo Bandini 483 

" Erica," A Story Paul Vernet 600 

Escape op President Diaz, The Andrew Broivn 306 

^Vlth portraits. 

Fifty-First Congress, The Ex-Gov. L. A. Sheldon. . 164 

" First Day of Winter," The, Poem Herbert Bashford (2)16 


Polk Songs of the Soi-rii Darid Starr Jordan, Prea. 

Stanford Jr. University, 52 

Forests of California, The ^ibhot Kinney, Ex-Ch'vi 

Illustrated by paintings from Nature and idiotographs. Forestry (.'omnii anion 115 

Forests of California, The (jnestiuni< of the Day. . . (2)111 

Four-in-Hand in Southern California, A < 'harles Frederick Holder. 327 

Full-page illustrations. 
Fruits, The History of Citru.s H'. A. Sp(ildi)i(i 78 

" Greatest of these is Charity," The, Poem Finily Brovne Foirell . . .(2)10 

Glaciers, Some American, I <-'• F- Ames 564 

Illustrated from photogravures and paintings by Dahlgren. 

H URY Men of Japan, The Helen E. Greqory-FJesher 365 

With full-page and other illustrations hy Breuer, and a map of the Aino Country. 

Highbinders, Among the Frederic J. Masters, D. D. , 

Snp't Chinese Missions . (2)i'>2 

With illustrations of highbinder emblems and relics, never before published, and photo- 
graphs of typical highlnnders. 

Highbinders in San Francisco, The. Qnestions of the Day (2)110 

History of Citrus Fruits. The W. A. Spalding 78 

Holden, Edward S., (Sketch of.) (See frontispiece facing 

page 349) James R. Anderson 468 

Ho'nolulu, Life in .■ Bertha F. Herri/^k 381 

Illustrated from photographs by Taber. 

How Angels Got Religion. A Story George Brooke 129 

Hunting the Antelope Charles Frederick Holder 209 

Full-page illustration. 

" I Am Alone," Poem Amy Elizabeth Leigh 189 

" Idol Affections," Poem Rose Maynard David 510 

Japan, the Hairy Men of Helen E. Gregory- Fleslier 365 

With full-page and other illu trations by Breuer, and a map of the Ainos country. 

John Bodkin's Baby ...W. A. Elderkin U. S. A . . (2)42 

John Brown Colony. See "California Colony, A." 

"John G. Whittier," Poem Flizaheth Grinrtell 409 

Journalism, Two Suggestions in (Questions of the Day 110 

"■ Kentuck." a Story Nellie Blessing Eyster. . ..(2)24 

Kindergartens Minna V. Lewis (2) 11 

Illustrated with portraits. 

Labor Problem, The Questions of the Day. . . . (2)109 

Labor Question of the Pacific Coast, The John Bonner 410 

With table of wages in various countries. 
Life in Honolulu Bertha F. Herrick 381 

Illustrated from photographs by Taber. 
Los Angeles E. F. Spence, ex-Mayor of 

Illustrations by E. Wachtel and A. F. Harmer Xos Angeles 1 

Lunar Crater Copernicus, The Edward S. Holden 227 

Illustrated from photagraphs. 

McDonald, Eichard H., (Sketch of) Men of the Day 171 

" Madame, T.he." A Story Patil Vernet 190 

Making Rain John T. Ellis, in charge of ^^^ 

the Government Expedition 
Men of The Day. 

Crocker, Colonel Charles Thomas Clavering Travers 171 

With full-page portrait. 

' McDonald, Richard H. Jr Thomas Clavering Travers 171 

With full-page portrait. 

Merry, William Lawrence James R. Armstrong 304 

With full-page portrait. 



" MisuxDERSTOOD," PoEM Estelk Thomson 178 

" M'siEc' Lafoxtaixe of Califorx-ie," Ax Easter Story. . .Julia H. S. Bugeia 611 

MouxD Builders, Eecext Discoveries Amoxg the Warren K. Moorhead. . . . 470 

Illustrated by Dahlgren, Breuer. and from photographs. 

" MoxjXTAix Brook, The " Poem L. Gertrude Waierhouse. . 192 

MouxT St. Elias. See article, "Alaskan Exploration in 1891," page 243. 
Frontispiece (facing page 227.) 

" Mount "Wtlsox Railroad, The " Judge B. S. Eaton 33 

Illustrations by H. H. Sherk. 

" My Library," Poem John W. Wood (2)86 

Xapa Soda Sprixgs, At the, Trevor 657 

Freely Illustrated. 

^^ATI0XAL Guard of Califorxia, The Brig. -Gen. C. C. Allen . . . 541 

Illustrated by fuU-pape cuts, maps, etc. 

Xatioxal Guard, The Oregox Harry L. Wells (2|95 

With full-page illustrations of First Regiment's Armory Building. 

Xaval Observatory Chief, The Questions of the Day .344 

Navy ix Califorxia, The Ruthella Schultz Bollard . 293 

Illustrated from photographs. 

X'ew Books 112, (2)112, 224, 345, 513, 669 

New Party, The— Will It Succeed ? E.x-Gov. Lionel A. Sheldon 47 

Xew Star o:^1892. The Edtvard S. Holden, Di- ' 

w ith chart. ^gctor Lick Observatory 404 
Nicaragua Cax.\l, The William L. Merry 349, 618 

Illustrated by Breuer and from photographs. 

Xicaragua Caxal, The Questions of the Day. .343, 667 

Missioxs of Califorxia Questions of the Day Ill 

Olive ix Califorxia, The Ron. Ellwood Cooper (2)51 

Illustrations from photographs. 

Opium, How the Opium Dex Pictures AVere Takex By One of the Party 627 

Opium axd Its Votaries Rev. Frederick J. Masters, 

D. D 631 

Illustrated by flash-light photographs taken in the dens by a Califoexiax party. 

Oraxge IX Califorxia, The Mrs. M. C. Frederick 451 

With full-page and other illustrations, from photographs of orange groves and exhibits at 
the Los Angeles Citrus Fair. 

Oregox Xatioxal Guard, The Harry L. Wells (2)95 

With fuU-jjage illustration of First Regiment's Armory Building. 

Over the Hedge axd Ixto the Ditch. (See article " Cross- 
country Riding," page (2)1) (2)1 

Frontispiece (facing page (2)1.) 

Palm Valley, Ix George Hamlin Fitch 646 

Illustrated from photograjjhs. 

Pacific Coast, 

GroA^-ing Prosperity of the Questions of the Day 109 

Labor Question of the (See also California — Southern ,,-. 

California) '. Jolin Bonner 

With table of comparative wages in various countries. 

Polo at Saxta Moxica G. L. Waring 265 

Illustrated from instantaneous pictures by the author. 

Press of Sax Fraxcisco James Prentiss Cramer. . . 519 

Fully illustrated. 

PRESBYTERiAxa^>r IX Califorxia Rev. Robert Mackenzie . . . 642 

With nurmrous j^ortraits and illustrations of churches and other institutions. 

Problem of Cheap Tr.\xsportatiox, The (1) William L. Merry, Consul- 

General, Republic of 
Nicaragua 255 

Public Domaix, The Lewis A. Groff, Ex- U. S. (9\g^ 

Land Commissioner ' 

INDEX vii 


Eaix, Makixg fohn T. Ellin, in charge of -^^^ 

Government Expedition 

Eaise the Standard Questions of the Day 344 

Recent Discoveries Among the Mound-Builders Warren K. Moorehead . . . 470 

Illustrated by Dahlgren, Breuer, and from photographs. 

Eecent Disturbances in China, The Frederic J. Masters, D. D., 

Illustrated from paintings and photographs. Supt. of Chinese Mission 314 

Recent Revolution in Chili, The Geo. L. Dyer, U. S. X. . . 138 

Illustrated by photographs taken on board the ilagshlp San Francisco. 

" Redeeming Light," Poem Rose Hartwick Thorpe . . . 303 

Redwood Industries of California George D. Gray 491 

Illustrated from photographs. 

Removal Company, The IV. C. Morrow 21 

Riding. Cross-Country F. F. Rowland, M. D (2)1 

Illustrations by A. F. Harmer. 

Ruins, Some American Henry T. Mason, Ph. I). . 109 

Illustrated by full-page cut from painting from nature and by photographs. 

Salton Sea, Effects of on the Climate of California .... Questions of the Day 109 

Santa Monica, Polo at '/. L. Waring 265 

Illustrations from instantaneous pictures by the author. 

Shasta, Climbing Snow-Covered George Hamlin Fitch 283 

Illustrated from paintings and photographs. 

Should Teachers be Pensioned ? Urs. E. S. Loud* 508 

"■ Skylark's Song, the " Poem Herbert Bashford 20 

Some A>ierican Ruins Henry T. Mason, Ph. D. . 193 

Illustrated by full-page cut from painting from nature and by photographs. 

Some Dogs I Have Known Charles Frederick Holder.. 443 

Illustrated from photographs from life. 

Some Extinct Giants James Envin Culver 501 

With Illustrations 

South, Folk Songs of the ^ David Starr Jordan, Pres- 
ident, Stanford Jr. Uni- 
Southern California. versity 52 

A Four-in-Hand in Charles Frederick Holder.. 27 

Full-page Illustrations. 

Climates of P. C Remondino, M. D. . (2)58 

See also California — Pacitic Coast. 

Stain on the Flag, A — (Chinese Slavery in America) Mrs. M. G. C. Edholm 159 

Illustrated by photographs of slaves. ' 
Star, the New, of 1892 Edivard S. Holden, Direct- 

With Chart. or of Lick Observatory. . 404 

" Sunset, " Poem Rose Hartidck Thorpe. . . . 364 

Suppression of Vice Questions of the Day 512 

Teachers, Should (They) be Pensioned? Mrs. E. S. Loud 508 

Tenxy'son and the Nineteenth Oextury f^eivis Worthington Smith 590 

Illustrated by rare etching of Lord Tennyson by courtesy of \\ . K. Vickery. 

Theosophy — What it is Not Elliott Coues, M. D 133 

" Those Bells of the Mater Purissima," Story Evelyn Morse Ludlum. . . . 260 

" Thoughts of the Poppy Fields," Poem Grace Ellery Channing..(2)94 

Tourxamext IX Tauromachy, A Phigenia K. Holmes 574 

Illustrated from paintings by Elker and sketches by Breuer. 

Traxsportatiox, the Problem of Cheap (1) William L. Merry, Consul- 

General, Republic of Xic- 255 

" Triolet, A " Poem James T. White 132 

University Extension Questions of the Day 344 

Voyage of Cabrillo, The (I-ll Complete) The Diary of the 

Pilot Ferrel (2)100, 215 

"Wanted — Ax Art Museum Questions of the Day 343 

" Whittier, Johx Greexleaf," Poem Elizabeth Grinnell 409 

viii INDEX 


" "With the Gift op an Opal," Poem Jean La Rue Burnett. . . . 282 

WooixG OF the Birds, The Henry Grant Curtiss 84 

"World's Fair, California at the. See "California's Opportunity." 

" Yesterday," Poem James T. White 236 


Alone, A Sonnet Charles Kiely Shetterly . . 500 

At Monterey Bay Virna Woods (2)23 

AvAY'KN Chas. F. Lttmmis 14 

Channel of Santa Barbara, The Juliette Estelle 2fathis .... 254 

First Day of "Winter, The Herbert Bashford (2)16 

Greatest of These is Charity, The Emily Browne Powell . . . (2)10 

I Am Ai;0ne Amy Elizabeth Leigh .... 189 

Idol Affections Rose Maynard David .... 510 

John G. "V\''hittier Elizabeth Grinnell 409 

Misunderstood Estelle Thomson 178 

Mountain Brook, The L. Gertrude Waterhouse ■ . 192 

My Library John W. Wood (,2)86 

Redeeming Light Rose Hartivick Thorpe . . . 303 

' Shepherd's Song," Poem Helen 0' Sullivan Dixon. . 599 

Skylark's Song, The Herbert Bashford 20 

Sunset Rose Hartwick Thorpe . . . 303 

Thoughts of the Poppy Fields Grace Ellery Channinq. . (2)94 

Triolet James T. White 132 

With the Gift of an Opal Jean La Rue Burnett 282 

Yesterday James T. White 236 


Actions of the Democratic Party 221 

Analytic Fictions 511 

Balmaceda and the Revolution in Chili (2)109 

Boy's Brigade. The 342 

Chinese "Woman Slavery 110, 223 

Chinese and Restriction 668 

Effect of the Salton Sea on the Climate of California 109 

Forests of California, The (2)111 

Growing Prosperity of the Pacific Coast 109 

Glaciers 667 

Highbinders in San Francisco, The (2)110 

Labor Problem, The (2)109 

Mountain Railroads 667 

Naval Observatory Chief, The 344 

Nicaragua Canal, The 343 

Nicaragua Canal 667 

Old Mission of California Ill 

Pensioning Teachers 668 

Progress of California . 222 

Raise the Standard 344 

Seal Fisheries 668 

Suppression of Vice 511 

Trouble With Chili 223 

Two Suggestions in Journalism 110 

"University Extension 344 

Wanted — An Art Museum 343 








^^ •-•■-• '/P 



YOL. I. 

OCTOBER, 1891. 

No. 1. 


By Hon. E. F. Spence. 

.ILIFORXIA is new: there 
is nothing specially old 
aljout it; were it so we 
would have no hopes of 
its ultimate unparalleled 
prosperity. Tlie fact that 
it is new inspires us with 
the hope, and imparts to 
us a faith, that ere long 
the State will stand out 
prominently as one of the 
most favored countries of the earth. 

Biblical lands, as Egypt, Assyria 
and Palestine, and cities as .Jerusalem, 
Damascus and Nineveh, are old and 
worthless, and by the discriminating 
hand of a marching civilization are 
cast aside, as the intelligent black- 
smith throws the dross of his forge 
into the waste-pit. India and China 
are old, exceedingly old, and as a con- 
sequence are shunned by the advent- 
urous modern as he wanders up and 
down through all lands, seeking a place 
where he may make a happy home. 
Even Europe, some portion of which 
we claim as " mother country," is be- 
coming worn out and exhausted. Her 
soil is now and will in the coming 
y^ears be more and more unable to re- 
spond to the demands of an increasing 

To the close observer of to-day the 
signs of incipient decay are seen on 
eYQxy hand, and like a panorama, 
while we are gazing upon wasted and 
exhausted fields, there come into view 
monuments, castles, cathedrals and 

towers; works which the builders of 
the past deemed indestructiljle, grad- 
ually crumbling away. While we thus 
contemplate the condition of the older 
countries, we in turn naturally bring 
our thoughts to our own or the newer 

The eastern portion of the continent, 
from Canada to Mexico, is slowly but 
surely losing a percentage of the j^eo- 
ple whose business has been to culti- 
vate the soil. The emigrating trend 
of the American farmer is westward, 
and a deploraV)le fact is apparent that 
there is a growing tendency among the 
people to congregate in the cities. The 
inhabitant of a city rarely contributes 
much to the genuine wealth, sturdy 
growth or healthful advancement of a 
nation, while, on the other hand, the 
honest, intelligent tiller of the soil is 
the main-stay, the prop, the true sup- 
porter of the whole country, and woe 
betide that land and that people which 
do not fully appreciate ancl hold in 
proper regard the cultivators of the 
soil. As from the earth we sprung, to 
it we shall return, and, by its proper 
use, from it all good things are de- 
rived. The progressive farmer of to- 
day (and by the term farmer we 
include those engaged in all branch- 
es of soil culture) asks himself 
the questions: Where can I find 
a lancl that is profitable to live in; a 
soil that will yield me the largest re- 
turns for the least labor; a community 
refined and cultured, with educational 



facilties of the lirst order, where wife 
and eliildren will be ha])i)y and eon- 
tented? And many other (]neries of a 
like natnre will i)ass throngh his ndnd; 
and should he in his wisdom deeideto 
make his home in Houthern California, 
and more especially at or near Los 
Angeles, we believe that his heritage 
will be goodly and his lilies fall in 
pleasant places. Our reasons for so 
believing may be Iniefiy stated: 

The design of this paper is not to 
he statistical, historical or personal; 
rather to reflect in a plain way the 
thoughts that occur to the mind of 
one who, in early life, untrammeled 
by the prejudices of section, politics 
or caste, sought and reached the coast 
(»f California with a fixed intention 
of making a home, taking all the 
chances of a pioneer life in a new 
country; and who has since crossed 
the American continent upon the 
various lines of travel from the Pacific 
to the Atlantic, from the extreme 
northern route — the Canadian Pacific, 
t() the extreme southern — the Bunset; 
one who has crossed the Atlantic 
many times and observed the condi- 
tions of men and their home life in 
the intense rigors of Northern Scot- 
land; the S(pialid wretchedness in 
Western Ireland; the stolid dogged- 
ness of the laboring classes of En- 
gland; the careless and unambitious 
life of the French peasant; and the 
meek submissiveness of the natives of 
the Lowlands of Europe, where the 
man or the woman may be seen yoked 
with the donkey or the dog in harness 
drawing the same cart. 

It is liy making comparisons that 
we arrive at correct conclusions. Now 
the question arises. Is California really 
the best country for an industrious 
man to select for a permanent home? 
The writer would reply in the aftirma- 
tive, and by giving satisfactory reasons 
would draw a picture for the mind's 
eye of this, the land of his adoption 
and choice. We have said that the 
country is new, for it is less than 
three hundred and fifty years since 
the first European saw what is now 
the coast of Los Angeles county. 

Only a few hundred years ago the 
California Indian had no one to dis- 
pute his title, or rob him of his herit- 
age, or drive him to an early death by 
disease unknown to the aborigine. He 
roamed at will through the mountains, 
over the great plains, and sometimes 
camped by the shores of the great sea. 
Doubtless at times his spirit was as 
wild and as rugged as the mountains, 
and again may have been as gentle 
as the summer breeze that swept 
over his native plains; but the white 

Chinese Lantern. 

men came one by one. A ship filled 
with exploring adventurers and pi- 
rates reaches the coast. A sailor de- 
serts, and still a few more leave the 
ship before she sails away. As it is 
an era of adventure and piracy other 
ships come coasting along, and thus 
gradually did the white men of Eu- 
rope find a lodgment on the coast. 
It is pleasant to trace the van of 
civilization from the time the first 
European (a Portuguese) landed upon 
the Southern Californian coast until 
now, and watch the trend of the times. 
Then a sailor stood upon a clifi', and 
as his eyes scanned the plains and dis- 

A Window in the A^e.xican Quarter. 

Photo, by Taber. 


t;int mountain?, little did he dream of 
the riches that Avere hidden within the 
range of his vision. Not long after- 

ward we hear of the Mission Fathers 
wandering iinsellishly up and down 
the coast endeavorino: to civilize, in 

some degree, the savages, and teach 
them, and tell them that there is a God 
in Heaven: and I wish to add a tribute 
to the memory of these 
men who first came at 
the risk of their lives 
to plant in California 
the banner of the Cross, 
the emljlem of peace 
and good will to all, 
and l)y whose influence 
the wild man was com- 
paratively tamed and 
taught to do a little 
work, no matter how 

Later on, as people 
came and increased, we 
find an admixture of 
races — Spanish. Mexi- 
can, natives, and traces 
of the Northern Euro- 
pean — making a popu- 
lation of hardy men 
; and women. Thetopog- 
i raphy of the country. 
: coupled with its cli- 
: mate, made it necessary 
: for both sexes to V)e 
I adepts at horsel jack rid- 
: ing. .These people lived 
a somewhat nomadic 
life, as they owned 
fiocks and herds and 
gave little attention to 
the cultivation of the 
soil. Some of the early 
American settlers in 
Southern California as- 
similated in a great de- 
gree with the natives, 
and made no attempt 
to develop what nature 
had so profusely strewn 
around them. 

The political or gov- 
ernmental transitions 
from Spain to ^Mexico, 
and from Mexico to the 
United States, were of 
vast importance; and, 
considering the extent 
of the territory acquired and the 
immeasurability of the influences of 
such acqtiisitions upon the world at 



LirjJf, it is one of the great wonders 
that tlie l)attles t'ouglit u])on tlie soil 
have been ahiiost hloodk'ss. Tliei-e 
has been no speeially remarkable iu- 
eident in her history, sueh as a Sedan 
or a Waterloo, to record. 

About forty years ago some little 
sign of progress was given, as seen in 
the planting of a small area to citrus 
fruit trees and grai)e vines, and send- 
ing abroad for i)lants. seeds and shrul)s 
of various kinds. 

Owing to a natural growth, which 
at first was imperceptible, l)ut later on 
■was increased by the rapid advance- 
ment made by the northern portion of 
California, the cities of the South — 
Santa Barbara, Los Angeles, San Ber- 
nardino and San Diego — some twenty 
years ago began to attract, not only 
the attention of the American peoi)le. 
but the people of other countries, and 
a quiet, intelligent investigation has 
been going on since then. To the 
credit and profit of these cities and 
their environments, it may be said 
they have stood their examination 
well, and to-day they stand forth as 
solid, rich and progressive American 
towns and communities, with pros- 
pects as bright as is possible to be. 

I wish to speak now more particu- 
larly of Los Angeles, the second city 
of California; and while I pay her 
a tribute, it will not detract an iota 
from the other and younger cities that 
are looming up richly, energetically 
and ambitiously. Ten years ago Los 
Angeles was still in a transition state, 
emerging from the old into the new 
order of things. Occasionally preten- 
tious residences might be noticed, 
taking the places of the lowly yet 
comfortaV)le adobe ones, where large 
and happy families were reared. 

New streets were making where a 
little while l)efore there were footi:)aths 
and tortuous windings around the 
rolling hills. Attempts were being 
made to have streets paved which were 
no better than common country roads. 
School-houses were being erected far 
in advance of those previously used, 
^lembers of the various religious 
denominations were considering the 

(juestion of building churches, metro- 
jiolitan in ])ro]K)rti()ns and style. 
( )wners of eligil)le l)usiness lots were 
an-anging to cover them with resi)ecta- 
1)le-looking buildings. Proprietors of 
suburban ])roperties were cultivating 
and imi)roving them, and tlie large 
landholder was actually rul)l)ing the 
scales from his eyes, and his brain, that 
had long lain in lethargy, Avas becom- 
ing awakened. Some of the })eople 
were acting, some wei-e tliinking, while 
others were thinking it would be a 
good thing to act. Nearly all seemed 
imbued with the central thought that 
Los Angeles would ere long make a 
tremendous bound forward, owing to 
her proximity to the sea, her com- 
manding ])osition in the interior, her 
geograi»hical jdace upon the railroad 
ma})s of the coast, her rich surround- 
ings, and, above all. she had a certain 
class of citizens who believed in her 
future greatness, and were willing to 
exert all their powers to make her 
great and prosperous. 

At this time many of the line old 
adobes and ranches, that have since 
l:)een torn down to make Avay for the 
onward march of progress, were in 
their prime, and the old round house 
stood to excite the wonder of the tour- 
ist. Sonoratown, that now is a mere 
curiosity, Avas then an important por- 
tion of the city and the home of many 
of the aristocrats among the Spanish 
inhabitants. To-day Sonoratown is 
one of the sights of Los Angeles; the 
artists find the old adobes picturesque, 
and in them many quaint objects are 
found, telling of the old days. ': 

The above is only a meagre outline 
of the condition of things as they ex- 
isted in 1880, Avhen the United States 
census developed the fact that Los 
Angeles city had less than 12,000 in- 
habitants. The census of 1890, as 
enumerated 1)V wards, gives us a pop- 
ulation of over 50,000 Avithin our city 
limits, Avhile the solid suburbs extend 
in some directions far beyond those 
limits. It is not an unfair estimate to 
say that to-day, 1891, Los Angeles 
contains 60,000 people. 

What shall Ave say of her present 


position? What shall Ave say of her 
destiny? It were idle to attempt in a 
limited paper like this to describe the 
beauties and the advantages of Los 
Angeles city and county. It would be 
unfair to the reader to present any- 
thing that would even seem to be in- 
spired by the spirit of Ijooming or 
advertising, yet the factors that go to 
make the city and county so prosper- 
ous and so great are so many that a 
few only can be utilized. 

To the stranger who leaves the East 
in mid-wintei and glides down through 
the canyons into this summerland the 
change is marvelous. He finds a city 
in the center of a district calling to 
mind Italy; yet though the winter day 
is cool and crisp, and on some mornings 
a slight frost is seen, everywhere the 
land is green; the hills are carj^eted 
with delicate tints of green and gold, 
the fields rich in growing grain, while 
after Christmas the wealth of wild 
flowers astonishes the beholder. En- 
tering Los Angeles he finds a modern 
city, buildings that would be a credit 
to any city of the East; yet there is 
something strange about it all. It is 
the verdure that is tropical in all the 
term implies; every yard has its palms, 
bananas or other tropical trees and 
plants; tall palms catch the eye at va- 
rious points. Here in an old-fashioned 
garden [see frontispiece] a lofty date 
palm rears aloft its graceful leaves, 
while its sturdy trunk is being cov- 
ered by the clinging ivy, making it a 
most attractive spectacle, appealing to 
the lover of the picturesque and artis- 
tic.»3 The streets abound in the graceful 
pei')per, whose lace-like leaves and red 
berries are a characteristic and beau- 
tiful feature. Here the tall eucalyp- 
tus rears its plume-like form, while 
as for roses, Los Angeles is a bower. 
These gorgeous flowers creeping over 
the cottages of the poor and the man- 
sions of the rich are suggestive of 
the prodigality of nature in this direc- 
tion. The flowers blooming in mid- 
Avinter, the rose hedges, fences of callas 
and other plants, that are treasures of 
the hot-house in the East, suggest a 
word as to the Los Angeles climate. To 

explain this so that it can be under- 
stood is most difhcult, and it can be 
only said that the term winter here i& 
a misnomer. True, it becomes cold; 
the peaks of the mountains are capped 
with snow and the mornings and even- 
ings are cool; a roaring Are is often 
pleasant and an overcoat in the morn- 
ing and evening is sometimes needed; 
yet in the Los Angeles garden the most 
delicate flowers are blooming, the gar- 
den vegetables are untouched. The 
winter is one for outdoor life, where the 
temperature rarely reaches the freezing 
point; the air is crisp and cool, a sea- 
son of deliglit with nature at her best. 
Now is the time of rain, the storms 
coming upon an average once in two or 
three weeks, giving an average of 
twenty inches for the year. There is 
al^out fifteen degrees between the mean 
of winter and summer, an important 
point, telling of the lack of sudden 
change, that is so detrimental to the 
invalid. The best evidence that the 
Los Angeles winter is a remarkable 
one is shown in the hundreds of in- 
valids who have come here and are 
distributed around the country in the 
various towns, enjoying the health lost 
in the East, but here regained. 

Winter melts imperceptilfly into 
summer — the dry time; the hills be- 
come gray, yet a crop of summer flowers 
appear in the fields and on the roadside, 
and the vineyards are now waves of 
green-bearing acres; the orange groves, 
the olive and the deciduous fruit trees 
are all rich in greens, hence the coun- 
try, to a great extent, preserves its 
green tint here the year around. 
Warm days are experienced, but Los 
Angeles never suffers from the heat 
that is exi^erienced in New York, Phila- 
delphia or Chicago. During the sum- 
mer months the thermometer ranges 
to lofty heights at rare intervals, yet 
in the shade it is usually cool and 
pleasant, and the nights are invari- 
ably so. Through the summer days 
a cool l^reeze comes in from the ocean, 
while at night a wind, soft and tinct- 
ured with the odor of upland pines, 
flows down from the lofty Sierra Mad- 
res, a life and health-giving tonic. 



The ^^tories ctf the old adol)e town, 
the establishment of the Mission, the 
rule of the ^Mission Fathers, the con- 
version of the Indians, the battles 
lietween the natives and the gringoes. 
and the final surrender and adhesion 
to the United ^^tates. have been so 
often told that repetition is unneces- 
sary. The reckless rollicking of the gay 
and daring Californian. his fandangoes, 
his wild horse racing and bull fighting 
are things of the past in Los Angeles. 
Certain activities incident to surround- 
ing conditions tended to develoii 
physical strength and endurance in 
horse and man. yet the necessity for 
such tests has. in a measure, ceased, 
and the old has given place to the 

The inquirer asks how and why the 
change? In attempting to explain 
and reply we are forced to moralize a 
little. An aggregation of intelligence, 
modern " push " and unrest -oill gen- 
erate a subtle power which will 
develop an intellectuality superior to 
any yet known. This power will be 
controlled l>y a lilierality of thought 
and sentiment, a genial forbearance 
and toleration combined with a fixed 
and steady jiurpose to reach the acme 
of human achievements. The bright 
skies, the balmy atmosphere, the pro- 
fuse productiveness of the soil and the 
all-pervading healthfulness of the sur- 
roundings tend to enlarge, broaden 
and deepen, not only the emotions and 
tender chords of humanity, but surely 
strengthen the main-spring of indi- 
vidual action, exertion and determina- 
tion, thus imperceptibly fitting the 
mind of the South Californian to he 
the true living receptacle of that moral 
and scientific force, yet partly latent, 
but sure to be developed ere long with 
astonishing power. 

In our new Southwest even at the 
present time are found the forerunners 
of a witnderfully intellectual epoch. 
The course of the Star of Empire, 
civilization and population, has long 
l)een toward the West; but here on 
the bosom of the broad Pacific that 
star fades away, and here upon its 
shores the typical pioneer, the explorer, 

the scientist and the progressive 
American must stop because they can 
go no further. There is no field for 
them to the north or to the south, and 
backward they will never go. It does 
not require the ken of a prophet to 
foretell the result of the occuj)ancy of 
a country bj' such a people. When cul- 
tured thought flashes against thought 
and cultivated mind against mind, the 
cobwebs of the past and the rusf of 
the ages will soon disappear. 

A single glance at a sign, somewhat 
conspicuous now, justifies the query. 
\\'ill not the great seats of learning 
within the next quarter of a century 
be found upon the Pacific coast instead 
of the inhospitable shores of New 
England? And will not Los Angeles 
l»e a centre of advanced thought and 
progressive ideas, and in the mutations 
and revolutions of time will there not 
be a transference of the '"Hub" from 
Boston to some city in the new South- 
west, where the apple and the banana 
grow and mature side by side, where 
the tuberose, the calla and the helio- 
trope are unscathed by frost and the 
air is redolent with the fragrance of 
the magnolia and the orange blossom? 

While the new Southwest already 
has gained a reputation world-wide for 
its unprecedented crops,the unbounded 
fertility of the soil and its almost un- 
limited capacity to support millions 
of people, and having all the elements 
to make an empire, still it will be 
more reputed as a country of com- 
manding mind. Were speculation per- 
missible here we might prognosticate 
the future of the city of Los Angeles; 
yet Ave prefer to leave that thought to 
the reader by suggesting that to-day 
she stands forth proud and peerless as 
the first city of the southwest, the sec- 
ond in all California. Her churches, 
schools and marts of trade would be a 
credit to any city. Her private build- 
ings, streets and street railroads, horse, 
cable and electric, are fully abreast of 
the times. 

The city hall and court-house are 
marvels of architectual beauty, and 
superior to those of any city west of 
the Pvockv mountains. In former davs 



tlic iirinci]i:il [lart of the city wasahont 
tlie old plaza, ujion which the Pic<» 
house and Mission fronted, and now 
in close proximity to Chinatown; Ijut 
the city of to-day seems to l)e reaching 
out toward the sea; its suburbs beinji 
many ndles to the south and west, 
containing line avenues, magnilicent 
residences, and many public parks 

The Chinese Theatre. 

that are fast Ijeconnng places of great 
beauty and interest. 

As to the character of the i^eople, 
the Ijuilders of the city, they can only 
Ije judged by Avhat they have done, 
what they are doing and wliat they 
will do in the future. The residences 
of some of the citizens have already 
crossed the hundred-thousand doHar 

While the great transcontinental 

raili-oad lines make Los Angeles an 
objective and terminal point, it would 
seem to l)e specially desirable for the 
merchant and the trader; yet to the 
lover of the beautiful a rare field is 
open. The mountains, hills, plains, 
valleys, vineyards, orchards and groves 
present a varied landscape that pleases 
the {esthetic eye, and on every hand 
elegant mansions are ap- 
pearing, testifying to the 
enterprise and culture of 
the people. Los Angeles 
is essentially a city where 
the ideal hcjme can l:)e 
made. Nature is here at 
her best and in a few 
short months a home can 
V)e produced that the vis- 
itor would sujipose had 
l)een years in attaining 
such perfection. Reach- 
ing out from the city on 
every hand are l)eautiful 
towns and sulmrban cit- 
ies, as Alhambra, Pasa- 
dena and others, made 
up of the elegant homes 
of a cultured people. 
Los Angeles is destined 
■ to become one of the most 
important railroad cen- 
ters on the continent ; the 
two great overland routes, 
the Atchison, Tojieka and 
Santa Fe and the South- 
ern Pacific now meet here, 
and rumors are in the air 
of other roads. From the 
city proper and its sub- 
urbs many lines reach 
out their network of steel, 
tapping the points of in- 
terest in the immediate 
vicinity. Los Angeles is but seventeen 
miles from the Pacific, where are found 
numerous resorts of great beauty, as 
Redondo, Santa Monica, Long Beach, 
San Juan, San Pedro and others, all 
reached by rail, many times a day. 
Turning to the mountains or the in- 
terior we find equal facilities. The 
Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe ex- 
tends through the San (labriel Val- 
ley, reaching the towns of Pasadena. 

Los Angeles Cit\- Hall. 



Monrovia, Sierra Madre, Pomona, On- 
tario. A rajjid transit line reaches 
Pasadena, then detiecting to tlie high- 
lands of this city, known as Altadena, 
from whicli a mountain railroad is 
eontemplated, taking the tourist to the 
summit of the Sierra Madre Moun- 
tains, where one may look down ui)on 
the City of the Angels as from a l;)al- 

The Southern Paeitie Road extends 
through the lower San Gabriel, tap- 
jnng imiwrtant towns and cities; the 
Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe with 
its new coast line carries the j^assenger 
from Los Angeles to the sea, skirting 
the Pacific and affording one of the 
most attractive trips in the country, 
reaching down into Lower California 
and San Diego. To the north another 
line carries the traveler through a coun- 
try that calls to mind Ital}- and the 
choice resorts of the Mediterranean, 
reaching Santa Barbara and beyond, 
and finally to connect with the route 
that is reaching down from the north, 
making one of the finest coast and 
scenic roads in the world. 

The seeker after climate is informed 
that people attain to greater age in this 
vicinity than anywhere else; at least 
such is the substance of a very learned 
and elaborate paper read in Los An- 
geles at the last annual meeting of the 
State Medical Society. The lover of ad- 
venture will also find congenial and 
inviting haunts, as in an hour's time 
he can reach the Sierra Madre range 
and i^lunge at once into the fast- 
nesses of the mountains where the 
bear, the deer and the California lion 
are still roaming at large; and in 
two or three hours' time can visit the 
headwaters of the Sespe or Piru and 
introduce himself to the California 
grizzly. But above all, should this 
new Southwest be the " Mecca " of the 
honest, industrious working man who, 

l)y rightly employing his time, will 
soon find a home Avhere he can live 
happily and contentedly with wife, 
children and friends, because nowhere 
else in the world is lal)or more gener- 
ously rewarded or the intelligent tiller 
of the soil receives a readier or richer 
recompense. It is emphatically a land 
of "Corn, Wine and Oil," and while 
we thus si^eak of the benedictions 
received by us from the earth, we must 
not forget the great boon accorded to 
us by the distillations of heaven. 
The water that can be utilized is suffi- 
cient for all purposes to furnish power 
for electricity, for machinery and for 
irrigation. In fact, the advantages of 
a constant and ample water supply 
never can be estimated. 

The mountain range that encircles 
the valley in which Los Angeles is 
situated, from the Tejunga on the 
west to the San Antonio on the east, is 
full of small, never-failing springs of 
pure water; and as the northern slojies 
of the range are covered almost with 
perpetual snow, we are assured of the 
permanency of as pure and delicious 
water as ever gushed forth from 
mountain's brow. In this range are 
located three great watersheds, the Los 
Angeles, the Santa Anita and the San 
Gabriel, which afford an ample supply 
to irrigate every acre from the moun- 
tain to the sea, and here is where the 
intelligent lal^orer and the scientist 
will be called u})on to display some of 
their powers, in husbanding the re- 
sources placed Avithin our reach by a 
.beneficent Creator. 

We have said that on this coast 
there will be the greatest strides in all 
those things that tend to make men 
lietter, and to push on the power of 
progress that the world has ever 
known. ^Xe believe it, but the com- 
ing generations must determine its 
truth or falsitv. 


By Charles F. Lummis. 

HIRKIXG the eye of the desert skies 
Under a juniper's sprawling shade, 
Weathered and shaggy and swart he lies, 
To sleep by the desert's breath betrayed. 

The sun stabs down thro' a lonely rift 

In fickle boughs to the sleeper's lids; 
Their brown turns red, and the red as swift 

Puffs livid grey where the liot brand bids. 

The dull nerves nudge at the sleeping brain, 
The slow brows knit to a sullen knot 

As slumber limps with the load of pain 
And rallies sense to the burning spot. 

He cheats the sun with a stupid hand, 

Groans, sits him up in the glare that blinds, 

Nor hears the li-h-h of the warning sand 
As a lazy length from the cactus winds. 

Cursing the glare that has wakened him — 
Wakened in time, if he could but know! 

But ears are dullard and eyes are dim. 
And Fate is pulling her puppet so. 

Left-handed groping — ask Fate for why — 

He reaches back for his fallen hat ; 
And death, that hurtless had passed him by 

Had the right hand reached, is his share for that. 

That slow 8 flirts to a mortal Q, 

The Castanet for the death-waltz plays. 

The fist of a head unclenches to 

A bony palm for the slajj that slays. 

A flash — a howl — and the smouldering brain 
Flares up into white intelligence ; 
" :My knife! But God! It is in the veinP' 
And brute despair is the heir of sense. 

Shrieking and cursing with lips that swell, 
Raving and trampling his writhing fate, 

His heels instinct with the rage of hell, 
Elach answering bite but a spur to hate. 

Two thin, dark streams from his nostrils break ; 

He staggers — the ghastly dance is done; 
And, one hand clenched on a frayed-out snake, 

He lies lead-faced to the swollen sun. 


By M. H. De Young. 

FTER a fashion Califor- 
nia has been widely ad- 
vertised. It is known 
through the length and 
b'readth of the land as 
a country possessing a 
wonderfully equable climate. Its re- 
markable agricultural productions have 
also attracted a great deal of attention, 
and created the impression that our 
soil is extraordinarily fertile; and we 
have enjoyed a degree of notoriety from 
Kearneyism and other causes that has 
helped to fix in the minds of many 
persons the idea that, after all is said 
and done, the Golden State is still a 
part of the wild and woolly AVest, with 
all the drawbacks peculiar to a raw, or, 
at least, an underdone civilization. 

The World's Columbian Exposition 
may be taken advantage of by the 
people of California to remove this im- 
pression. By the aid of an appropriate 
and adequate display of our resources, 
and the extent to which we have de- 
veloped them, we can teach outsiders 
that, although there is still room for 
expansion, we have made a beginning 
which will compare favorably with the 
maturer achievements of many of the 
older communities. 

It would be a great mistake to un- 
derrate the influence of the impression 
that California is new and raw, which 
doubtless obtains in many sections of 
the East and the Old World, or to sup- 
pose that the erroneous impression is 
not widespread. It must always be 
borne in mind that it is the bad news 
which is telegraphed abroad, and that 
the exploits of a Black Bart are more 
dM'elt upon by the Eastern press than 
the acts of broad-minded men who have 
established schools and universities, or 
the enterprises of citizens who have 
called into existence important indus- 

I do not say this in a carping spirit. 
The methods of the Eastern newsgath- 
erer differ not a whit from those of his 

A\>stern brother. He lays before his 
public recitals of novel occurrences, 
among which stage robberies figure, 
and it is hardly to be expected that, 
every time he prints such an item, he 
should supply the explanation that 
California is a vast State, and that it 
does not follow, because a stage coach 
has been " stood up " upon some soli- 
tary road, perhaps a hundred miles 
distant from the nearest town, that law- 
lessness prevails generally. But occur- 
rences of this kind, unduly empha- 
sized, are responsible for the wide- 
spread opinion that our civilization is 
a trifle backward, and no one need be 
surprised if told that it is not rare for 
newspaper editors to receive inquiries 
whether Ave are supplied with good 

If, then, the idea that California is 
still in the wild and woolly state can 
be dissipated by an elaborate display 
of all of our material resovirces, we 
should eagerly seize the opportunity to 
make it. We cannot banish the im- 
pression by simply showing that Ave 
can groAV large and fine fruits, raise big 
pumpkins and produce the cereals in 
abundance. Our display must be infi- 
nitely more A^arious. It must be so 
thorough that the superficial, as Avell 
as the critical, visitor to the fair, Avill 
go away convinced that California is 
not only possessed of fertile soil and 
great material riches of all kinds, but 
that it has Avithin its borders an ener- 
getic population which has made ex- 
cellent use of them. 

It is because I have felt that our 
chief aim should be "thoroughness" 
that I have so strenuously advocated 
a distributive exhibit. HaAdng devoted 
much attention to the subject, I real- 
ized that any attempt to concentrate 
our exhibit under one roof might re- 
sult in intensifying the idea that Ave 
Avere still raAV — in the country fair 
stage, so to speak. I have, therefore, 
advocated that Ave put our best foot for- 



ward in every department, and strive 
to carry off prizes wherever yve can. 

It wovild be a serious error to assume 
that our efforts would go unnoticed in 
the vast competition of the world. On 
the contrar}^, there is every reason for 
belie\dng that we can make a credit- 
able showing in almost ever}- classifi- 
cation, and that in some we will stand 

In dwelling upon our wonderful de- 
velopment of the fruit industr}', we are 
too apt to lose sight of the fact that we 
have made great progress in the me- 
chanic arts. So little are we accus- 
tomed to referring to our exploits in 
this line, that the rest of the world has 
come to look upon us as merely an ag- 
ricultural community, with all the lim- 
itations of a region devoted solely to 
farming. It is scarcely three months 
since the Atlanta Constitution seriously 
informed its readers that such was the 
case, and that we could never hope to 
attain greatness, because of our one- 

The Atlanta editor should not have 
made such a mistake, for the census 
report for 1880, had he consulted it, 
would have informed him that, while 
California stood twenty-fourth in point 
of poi^ulation in the year mentioned, 
it held twelfth rank in manufacturing. 
The census figures for 1890 are not yet 
available, but if the rest of the State 
has made equal — I believe relatively it 
has been greater — progress with San 
Francisco, it will be found that our ])0- 
sition has been improved. 

At any rate, California will figure as 
an important manufacturing State in 
the census tables, but, as statistics of 
that kind do not impress themselves 
readily upon the average person, a far 
better idea of our progress in that di- 
rection can be conveyed by exhibiting, 
in their proper places, our great min- 
ing pumps, models of vessels, engines 
of all kinds, agricultural implements, 
our textile fabrics, our manufactured 
clothing, our boots and shoes, and the 
thousand and one objects turned out 
by our busy factories. 

In the mining department we can 
convincingly demonstrate that the in- 

dustry is b}' no means an extinct .one, 
but that, on the contrary, it is growing 
steadily and surely. By this I do not 
mean to assert that the enormous pro- 
duct of placer mining days will ever 
be equaled, or even approached, but 
that by improved methods the yield of 
the precious metals extracted from our 
quartz veins will continue to increase, 
and that its annual A^alue will equal an 
amount which some of the great agri- 
cultural States would not be ashamed 
to have stand for the product of some 
particular cereal. 

Not only will we show that the busi- 
ness of mining is an industry intelli- 
gently and lucratively pursued, but we 
will also make plain the fact that we 
have a large variety of the inferior 
metals, all of which, when properly 
used, add to the comfort of man and 
the enrichment of the State. 

In the same great department we 
shall exhibit our building stones, mar- 
bles, ornamental stones and quarry 
products generally. If pains are taken 
with this particular dis]3lay, a stronger 
impression may be produced than with 
almost any other of our great resources. 
There is something fascinating about 
the country which produces in abund- 
ance marbles and other ornamental 
building stones. And when the story 
of production is accompanied by a re- 
cital of what has been done with the 
product ; when we tell of the construc- 
tion of ten-story buildings, whose prin- 
cijjal feature is imposing columns and 
arches of marble, brown stone and 
granite, and whose halls are lined with 
beautiful slabs of variegated marbles 
rivalling the most famous colored pro- 
ducts of the Old AA^orld, and rooms or- 
namented with onyx glowing with light 
and generous warmth, often surpassing 
in richness the rare productions of 
Mexican mines; when we tell this 
stor}', and point to the specimens to 
substantiate the truth, much will have 
been accomplished in the direction of 
dissipating the woolly "West idea. 

In the transportation department 
more well-directed efforts can be made 
to show how fully abreast we are of 
the rest of the world, and, in some in- 


stances, ahead. When we disphiv onr 
cable cars, the fact will be made known 
that this excellent system of street lo- 
comotion was first put in practice in 
San Francisco, and that all the great 
improvements, which have contributed 
to the success of the cable system, are 
of California origin. We can show 
that the chief city of the State has the 
best system of street railroads in Amer- 
ica, and, what perhaps will be equally 
astonishing, that many of our cities 
can give points to the much older com- 
munities of the East on the matter of 

In this department we can likewise 
.show what we have accomplished in the 
ship building line. The fact that some 
of our best naval vessels have been 
turned out from San Francisco shij)- 
yards, if duly brought forward, as it is 
bound to be, will lift us in the estima- 
tion of that class — and it is a large 
one — which justly elevates to the first 
place among the efibrts of man, a fin- 
ished piece of marine architecture. 

In the department devoted to show- 
ing live stock we can furnish another 
valuable lesson. No State in the Union 
can make better displays in this de- 
partment than California, although our 
remoteness from the place of exhibition 
will put us at a disadvantage. The 
magnificent horses, bred on our stock 
farms, whose exploits are familiar to 
the whole country, will, at Chicago, 
come under the observation of im- 
mense numbers of people who will be 
forced to recognize that the ability to 
produce high-class turf horses, which 
conferred such a signal distinction on 
Kentucky, is equally shared by the 
Golden State, although the fact is often 
obscured by our many claims to other 

In the breeding of beef, dairy and 
other cattle, we have made equally 
great progress, and there is no question 
that we can hold our own with our 
most formidable competitors. 

In the department devoted to edu- 
cation and the fine arts we can make 
our impress. Naturally a country so 
youthful as California cannot 1:)oast as 
great a number of artists as some of 

the older counnunities, but the divine 
spark of genius has fired some breasts, 
and their efibrts will do us credit. Our 
painters of scenery have done work 
which will compare favoraby with that 
of their most gifted Eastern brethren, 
and California can claim at least two 
or three men whose work with the 
chisel is worthy the designation ar- 

But it would be impossible for me, 
in the compass of a brief article like 
this, to begin to enumerate all that we 
may do. When I study the ofiicial 
classification I am amazed to discover 
how" few groups or even classes there 
are in which we cannot make a credit- 
able showing. Indeed, I am convinced, 
if there is no relaxation of zeal on our 
part, that we shall be able to draw at- 
tention to ourselves in neariv every one 
of the one hundred and ninety-three 
great groups into which the thirteen 
departments are divided. If I am right 
in this assumption, then our advertise- 
ment would be continuous, and not 
confined to a single building, as it would 
be if we had made the mistake of at- 
tempting to collect under one roof — 
something absolutely impossible of ac- 
complishment — all of the displays of 
our State. 

To illustrate my idea I may call at- 
tention to the fact that one of the great 
groups in the department of agricul- 
ture is that of forest products and for- 
estry, embracing nineteen difierent 
classifications. To adequately display 
all of the productions and appliances 
which will come under these group- 
ings, annexes, in the shape of sawmills, 
etc., will be required. These will be 
sure to attract all of the large class 
specially interested in such matters 
and, in addition, that equally large 
class of curious sight-seers who love to 
watch machinery in motion. Obvi- 
ously, if California failed to display her 
productive wealth of forest products in 
this place, she would lose a splendid 
opportunity to advertise this particular 
resource. But if she acts judiciously, 
and dares to show what she has to show 
in this particular line alongside of the 
products of States whose chief lioast is 



their great lumbering industries, she 
will he sure to achieve a signal triumph; 
for nothing so affects the human mind 
as variety. The jjeople who only ex- 
pected California to excel in fruits and 
viticulture will be amazed to learn that 
the State has great forests of excellent 
timber and a variety of woods, suitable 
for decorative purposes, which cannot 
be found in any other State of the 

The same impression may be created 
in other groups of the agricultural and 
other departments. Everywhere the 
visitor wanders he should see Califor- 
nia represented in some shape, until at 
last he comes to realize that, within the 
boundaries of the State, whose area is 
157,801 square miles, nearly every- 
thing that man desires or needs is, or 
can be, produced. 

The carrying out of this idea does 
not necessarily embrace the abandon- 
ment of the proposal of a State build- 
ing in which an effective display shall 
be made. On the contrary, it would 
wonderfully increase the interest in 
such a collective display, for every ex- 
hibit in the competitive departments of 
the Fair would be a finger-post direct- 
ing the visitor to the State building to 
acquire fuller information regarding 
the capabilities of the State. 

The contents and arrangement of the 
collective exhibit in the State building 
should be the subject of intelligent 
care and anxious solicitude. An earn- 
est endeavor should be made to embrace 
in it every known product of the soil, 
mineral and vegetable, and no attempt to 
include manufactured products should 
be considered. When the infinite vari- 
ety of our natural products is consid- 
ered, it will at once be seen that the 
space required for their proj^er dis- 
play will be enormous, and, as our chief 
aim is to show what California can do, 
it would be unwise to a degree to devote 
any valuable room to exhibiting articles 
not peculiar to the State and in the pro- 
duction of which we show no particular 
superiority over our neighbors. 

I do not mean by this that the collec- 
tive exhibit should entirely ignore our 
capabilities in the manufacturing line. 

That will not be necessary, as abundant 
literature can be furnished which will 
fully inform the curious of our progress 
in the mechanic arts. Besides our best 
efforts will be represented in the various 
classes of the groups in the great depart- 
ment and will speak for themselves. 

The main object of the collective 
exhibit should be to display in a con- 
densed form every natural product of 
the State and to afford as nearly as pos- 
sible a graphic history of the develop- 
ment of the soil so far as it has pro- 
ceeded. A leading feature of the exhibit 
should be a topographical map on an 
extended scale showing the mountains, 
valleys and rivers of the State. On this 
map could be laid down the mineral 
regions in such a fashion that the ob- 
server could at once distinguish the 
nature of the mines, if any have been 
opened, and the general geological 
characteristics. Our great forests of 
redwood, jDine, and sequoia should be 
indicated and the vastness of individual 
trees, as well as the quantity of timber 
still standing. Our great agricultural 
districts should be shown with the 
boundaries of settlements already made 
and those portions of the State particu- 
larly adapted to citrus or other fruits 
designated. The range of temperature 
and rainfall of various sections could 
also be easily shown, making the map 
particularly valuable from the climatic 

As California has made such won- 
derful progress in irrigation and is 
rapidly convincing the rest of the world 
by its experience that it pays to be as 
independent of the caprices of the 
elements as possible, a comprehensive 
showing of what we have done in this 
direction would be both instructive 
and interesting. Models of irrigation 
ditches and lands made productive by 
the aid of water should be furnished on 
an extensive scale, and good photo- 
graphs illustrating every phase of irri- 
gation should be exhibited and an 
abundance of literature on the subject 

Our great variety of woods suitable 
for building and decorative purposes 
should be shown in the rough and in 



the finished state. If possible, models 
of houses showing our woods and the 
uses to which they can be put should 
be supplied. There might also be speci- 
mens of interior decoration in native 
woods in the shape of panels, etc., and, 
whenever practicable about the build- 
ing, California lumber and decorative 
woods should be used. Specimens of 
our big trees should not be absent 
from this part of the collection, 

California building and decorative 
stones ought to have a prominent place 
in the collective exhibit, and the exer- 
cise of a moderate degree of ingenuity 
no doubt would permit their employ- 
ment in different portions of the build- 
ing. For instance, some of our beauti- 
ful onyx should be used in the con- 
struction of a conspicuous chimney 
piece, which might be designed by Cal- 
ifornia artists. There could be columns 
of our pure white marbles and of our 
beautifully variegated specimens of the 
same stone. Models could also be use- 
fully employed here to illustrate the 
use to which our stones are put and 
their number might be shown by 
some such device. 

The fact that California is still a 
great mineral country could be shown 
by transporting bodily all that portion 
of the State Mineralogical Bureau's col- 
lection that pertains to California. It 
would make a complete showing, and 
more thoroughly demonstrate our min- 
eral wealth than could be done in any 
other way. Models of mining shafts, 
mills, etc., and methods of working 
should form a leading feature of this 
part of the collection, but its principal 
object should be a vast pyramid rep- 
resenting the cubical measurement of 
the gold taken out of the soil of Cali- 
fornia since the occupation by Ameri- 

It is hardly necessary to urge that 
our agricultural exhibit should be com- 
plete in all particulars. We have been 
so accustomed to dwelling upon the 
prominence of this industry, to the ex- 
clusion of all others, that I have always 
deemed it necessary to suggest that our 
great agricultural possibilities should 
not blind us to the tact that Ave have a 

great variety of other resources. The 
probable trouble in this particular 
branch of the display will be to decide 
just how far to go. Some things, how- 
ever, will have to be done. We must 
show what we can do in the raising of 
cereals by displaying specimens of our 
wheat, corn, barley, rye, etc., not only 
in the grain, but in the stalk. Every 
variety of vegetable grown here should 
be exhibited, and care should be taken 
to secure worthy specimens. 

In the horticultural portion of the 
display should be included an elabo- 
rate array of our choicest fruits, done 
up in attractive glass jars, dried fruits, 
fruits of every variety in tasteful but 
showy parcels, our best raisins, crys- 
talized and preserved fruits. Unques- 
tionably this display, together with the 
displays of constantly renewed speci- 
mens of fresh fruits, will be the lead- 
ing attraction of the exhibit. There- 
fore the most study should be bestowed 
upon it in order to achieve the best re- 

In floriculture particular pains 
should be taken to keep up a steady 
supply of fresh ffowers. We should 
also show every variety of preserved 
flowers and, in the way of decorations, 
as many specimens of semi-tropical 
plants as possible, in order to impress 
the visitor with the idea that our State 
has a distinctive and superior climate. 

The viticultural display should be 
large enough to show the importance 
of the industry of wine making, and it 
could be made highly interesting with 
the aid of working models of vineyards 
and wineries. 

But, above all things, a garden un- 
der glass should be provided, in which 
every tree and plant susceptible of 
profitable cultivation or for pleasure 
should have a place. Such a garden, 
with an occasional fountain fringed 
with orange, palm trees, evergreens, and 
all the infinite variety of plants famil- 
iar to us, would be a dream to most of 
the visitors of the fair, and make a 
lasting impression upon them. 

I have here enumerated only such of 
the salient features as have occurred to 
mv mind. To be thorough would re- 



quire one to traverse the whole of the 
elaborate classification of the depart- 
ments, for, if we do all we are aljle, we 
will make a dis]3lay on a condensed 
scale nearly as comprehensive, so far 
as variety is concerned, as that of the 
great Fair itself. 

If this collective exhibit is placed, as 
I am confident it will be, in an attract- 
ive building whose architectural pecul- 
iarities will draw attention, and is 
comprehensive and well arranged, it, 

in conjunction Avith the other exhibits, 
will finally and conclusively remove 
from the Eastern and the foreign mind 
the damaging impression that Califor- 
nia is still a border region, and con- 
vince the Avorld that in all things we 
are well abreast of ciA'ilization, and 
that our only peculiarity consists in 
the fact that we still have ample room 
for great numbers of people to form for 
themselves happy and prosperous 


By Herbert Bashford. 

The feathered fir is bathed in dew, 

And countless gems are clinging there: 
A joyous lark amid the blue 

Sends ripj)ling music down the air; 
And when on boughs that droop apart, 

Each bead of crystal pulses bright, 
His song has touched the dewdrop's heart 

And made it quiver with delight. 


Bv W. C. Morrow. 

T is hardly strange that my 
best and oldest friend, wid- 
(^wed and dying, should 
have given into my charge 
her little daughter, An- 
nette, for there was none 
other so strongly bound to 
this obligation, none to- 
Avard whom that gratitude 
Avhich lives beyond the 
grave extended a hand of 
gentler appealing. Nor did it seem at 
that time so serious an undertaking. 
Annette was sweet and gentle and 
quiet and obedient, studying my wishes 
and trying to follow their course, 
seemingly putting aside her own great 
sorrow in my presence and investing 
her demeanor with the full strength of 
her brave young heart. I knew little 
about children then, or I should not 
have been blind to the womanly con- 
duct of this strange child. Now I have 
some idea of her suffering, which she 
kept so bravely from me, of that con- 
suming yearning with all her childish 
heart for the touch of a mother's hand 
and the music of a mother's voice; and 
I know now how greatly she needed 
the kindly guidance of a level purpose 
and an even heart. 

I thought I was doing the best I 
could. I imagined that the responsi- 
bility of the charge found proper esti- 
mation in my plans, in my conduct, 
and in my wishes. If there was a 
sense of oppression under it my grati- 
tude would have masked it. So, being 
too young and unsettled to establish a 
household with Annette as my family, 
I put her in a convent. It never oc- 
curred to me to imagine that this 
sharp separation contained any ele- 
ment of a riddance, nor did there come 
up any formed hope that Annette, so 
desolate and lonely, so gentle, unsel- 
tish and retiring, might choose to be- 
come a conventual, upon which con- 
summation my responsil^ility would 
cease, of course. When I spoke to her 

of going to school in a convent her sad 
face brightened, and then instantly it 

■• What is it, Annette?'' I asked. 

" I can never see you then." 

'• Oh, yes," I said, " for I shall go to 
see you every week." 

She lookecl up at me quickly. " You 
will come every week?" she asked. 

"Yes; every week." 

" Because," she added — but why did 
she use that word "because?" of what 
was it an explanation and for what a 
reason? — " because," she said in her 
sweet, low, childish voice, slightly 
tremulous, " you are all I have in 
the world." 

I caught her up in my arms and 
kissed her for that, and this surprised 
her very much, for it was the first 
time I had ever caressed her, but that 
was because I knew so little about chil- 
dren. She went to tlie convent, and 
the years of her life began their steady 
course — with what loneliness, with 
what suffering, with what longings, with 
what numberless little cares and anx- 
ieties, Avith what small pleasures and 
diversions I did not know, for Annette 
was reticent, and it never occurred to 
me to incjuire. My promise of visits 
suffered many violations, but my 
brave little girl never complained. 
There was always the same quick but 
transitory happiness which lighted up 
her pretty face when I would visit 
her; but there was otherwise a habit- 
ual sadness, growing deeper and surely 
merging into melancholy. And to my 
surprise she refused religious comfort- 
ing — not that I was religious, but — I 
really did not know why her refusal 
troubled me. At times she talked 
sparingly but fearlessly a philosophy 
which made the good women there de- 
spair; these things the}' told me with 

The time came when I awaited with 
anxiety the day of her graduation, 
now close at hand, for responsibility 



at last had laid a hand upon me; its 
effect upon an erratic bachelor, not old 
enough to be Annette's father, was dis- 
quieting. Was there any element of 
selfishness in this feeling? Had I 
been a churl in failing often to visit 
Annette? — for when I did go I always 
took her some little present, and she 
was grateful for it. Could I not have 
gone oftener and taken her more pres- 
ents? Could I not have staid longer 
and been gentler and kinder to her, 
and told her things of the outside 
world to cheer her? Thus ran my 
thoughts, quickened possibly by con- 
science, as I sat in the very rear of the 
great room on graduation day, well 
concealed, I thought, hj the large 
crowd present. Thus ran my mind as 
I sat and gazed in wonder at my 
Annette (for was she not my ward?) 
as she sat upon the platform with 
other girls. Could this beautiful girl 
be Annette? It must be, for she was 
so small, so fragile, so pale, so invested 
with an atmosphere of loneliness. In 
all that great room filled with people I 
saw only my little Annette; and never 
had I seen so pretty, so dainty, so 
exquisite a picture. I was glad she 
did not see me; I would let her know 
afterward that I had been there, and 
this would prove that I had not neg- 
lected her. She held the flowers which 
fortunately I had thought to send her, 
and her manner showed that by some 
accident I must have sent the kind 
she liked best; for in very truth I had 
ransacked San Francisco before I 
found any that I thought were good 
enough for Annette. But what meant 
this new look of trouble in her face? 
It appeared to be evidence of a tangi- 
ble pain, A fear that the excitement 
had proved too great for her possessed 
me, and a strong pity was aroused. 
There was a strained expression in her 
eyes, whose glance wandered unceas- 
ingly over the vast audience, up and 
down, row by row, face by face, until 
the radiance from their unfathomable 
blue depths fell full upon me; and 
then instantly a bright flash of recog- 
nition, followed by a soft pink flush 
which rivaled the dainty coloring of 

her roses, swept over her face, and then 
a faint smile of pride and happiness, 
and her glance fell to the floor. At 
that moment there burst upon me un- 
accountably, with so fierce assailing 
that it stunned, the realization, all 
unexpected, all unguarded against, 
that my little Annette was a woman. 

It was some days before I could 
recover full possession of myself, for 
by some unexplained means I had 
been thrown into a condition of wilder 
disorder than was customary even with 
me. Vaguely was Annette associated 
with this condition, and with a certain 
impatience I felt a resentment toward 
her — toward innocent, unhappy, un- 
selfish Annette; and it added somewhat 
to my resentment to reflect that she 
was now eighteen, and beyond the 
legal reach of my protecting guardian- 
ship. It is true, she had no means for 
her maintenance, but I should not 
grudge her that from my modest earn- 
ings. This charge upon my income 
doubtless would keep me from marry- 
ing and having a home with all its 
sweet comforts, but was Annette to 
blame for that? and did this weaken 
the force of my obligation? And then, 
she might marry or become self-sus- 
taining . But at that moment 

the following note was brought to me: 

"My Dear G-uardian: You have 
not been to see me since the day of my 
graduation, but I am glad to know 
that you have not been ill. Perhaps 
it is better that you did not come, for 
I know that I should not have had the 
courage to thank you for all that you 
have done for me. How can I thank 
you now? Every word, look, and act 
of kindness from you through all these 
past years will remain a precious 

"Pardon me, my friend; but I can 
live no longer upon your bounty. I 
am a woman and of legal age, and my 
first right and duty are to maintain 
myself. Knowing your generosity and 
unselfishness, I must not let you know 
whither I go, but if all goes Avell with 
me you shall know. 

" Farewell, Vjy best, my dearest 
friend. Annette." 



The blow was swift and cruel, Init 
above all other feelings there struggled 
to the front one of bitter chagrin. So 
Annette had run away from me; so, 
after all, it was proved that I was 
nothing to her, and that now, when 
she was armed to make her own fight 
for life, she had no further use for me; 
so, she believed that my friendship 
was worthless, my guidance and 
assistance useless; and thus Annette 
had shaken me off as an ugly dream, 
leaving me bruised, humiliated, cut to 
the heart. 

As the days passed by my resent- 
ment softened, and then there came 
upon me a fear that Annette's mind 
was deranged. Sometimes long ago I 
feared it, but not expected it. If I 
should find her with her mind awry, 
my duty would be clear; but if it 
should be otherwise how could I thrust 
my presence and friendship upon her? 
Her conduct had been a suflicient 
hint. The weeks passed, and my fear 
for her safety grew steadily. It looked 
bad that not a word had come from 
her. San Francisco was hardly large 
enough to afford absolute concealment, 
but it was large enough to starve in. 
How could Annette, with her dainty 
tastes, shrinking disposition and 
fragile body earn a livelihood there? 
Would she rather starve than be 
near me? 

My fears finally impelled me to 
make a search, and for this purpose I 
employed a man named Clreatwood. 
" I do not wish to see her," I instructed 
him, "nor does she wish to see me. If 
you find her tell her nothing, but re- 
port to me." 

It was a harder task than I had 
imagined, but one day Greatwood 
came to me with a strange expression 
on his face. "I have found her," he 
said, "and she is in a very bad situa- 

"Tell me about it, Greatwood," I 
begged, for his words gave me a quick, 
measurable pain and a great eager- 

"Well," he said, "she has been sew- 
ing and trying to teach, but she was 
not strong enough, and her health 

broke down. It is a wonder she has 
lived so long. The people in the house 
have been kind to her, but she refuses 
to accept food from them, protesting 
that she is not in need of it. Matters 
reached a climax only last night. Some 
one heard a strange noise in the room 
— a very slight sound, but sufficient to 
attract the attention of a nervous 
woman in an adjoining room. She 
roused her husband, and they went to 
the girl's room. The door was locked; 
there was no answer to their calls and 

rapping. They burst open the door 


"Is she still alive, Greatwood?" I 
gasped, springing to my feet. 

"Yes; but they found something 
worse than her attempt." 

"What was it, man?" 

" She was starving." 

"Come, Greatwood," I cried, "take 
me to her." 

" But you said " 

"Come — there is not a moment to 

We went as fast as horses driven 
furiously could take us. Oh, what a 
shabby, wretched place for Annette, 
and the poor, bare room in which she 
lived ! I went straight to the bedside 
and gently raised the slight, emaciated 
form of my poor Annette — my Annette, 
I say — and pressed her to my heart. 
She knew me, and feebly put her arms 
around my neck — the first time she 
had done this in all her life. 

"I didn't think you would care to 
see me," she faintly said, and tears of 
happiness streamed down her wan 
cheeks; and there came into her beau- 
tiful blue eyes just such a look as that 
which, lighted them up on the day 
when she found me in the great crowd 
at the convent. The doctor who had 
been summoned that night to attend 
her had left an injunction that she be 
given a broth; but the women there 
told me that she had refused to take 
it, I ordered another at once. An- 
nette watched me all the time, but 
said nothing, and her tears continued 
to flow. I was sure that I tried very 
hard to be kind and gentle with her. I 
said little, because she was verv weak. 



I gave issue to not a word of chiding 
— how could I ? But for all that there 
must have been something in my 
manner that disturbed her. for she 
soon became restless. What was there 
lacking in my conduct? Was it S3^m- 
pathy? Surely I felt it with all my 
heart. It is true, I could not forget 
Annette's past treatment of me — not 
that it should affect either my sympa- 
thy or my sense of duty, but that it 
indicated her dislike of my care and 
attention. I felt that I was guilty of 
a rude intrusion upon her now: for I 
was interfering in a matter that lay 
wholly between her and her Maker: 
and I found in her desolate condition 
a sufficient explanation of the fleeting 
happiness which she felt upon seeing 
me. This had worn off quickly 
enough, but not sooner than I had ex- 
pected. Even before the broth arrived 
my presence had apparently become a 
positive annoyance to her. I offered 
her the broth. She shook her head. 
I pleaded earnesth^ with her. Her 
look hardened all the more. 

"But you must, Annette," I said. 

Her eyes flashed with a quick look 
of defiance. 

■• No — come closer. Send the others 
away; I want to tell you something. 
. . . You are and always have been 
very kind to me . . . much kinder than 
I deserve or have ever deserved. ... I 
can never repay you, because ... I shall 
not live long enough." 


Her eyes brightened and a flush 
came into her deathly pale cheeks. 

" It is true," she' said, speaking more 
rapidly — "it is true. I am determined 
to go."' 

" What do you mean, Annette?" 

'■ You know what I mean," she 
gasped, struggling to raise herself upon 
her elbow. " You know what I mean." 

I knew then, for even if her words 
had failed to convey her dreadful 
meaning, the resolution in her beauti- 
ful eyes would have been sufficient in- 

"You know what I mean," she re- 
peated. " and it will be worse than 
cruel in vou to interfere.'" 

In spite of my philosophy; in spite 
of my belief in those unhappy days 
that the right to take one's own life was 
inherent, sacred, and inalienable; in 
spite of my conviction that none had 
the right to interfere and that all would 
better be dead than living; in spite of 
my opinion that among all those whom 
I knew — the sore afflicted, the de- 
ranged, the unhappy, the abandoned 
and desolate — none could find a hap- 
pier release in death than my poor An- 
nette, — in spite of all these things my 
heart seemed to die within me when a 
full realization of her terrible deter- 
mination broke upon me. For my con- 
science was alarmed, and the memory 
of neglected visits and other attentions 
and kindnesses was aroused into un- 
happy activity. Possibly I could have 
made her life brighter and keyjt at bay 
the gloom and sense of loneliness that 
had become despair. 

But what could be done? I knew 
that Annette was proud, and that the 
end of all things with her had come. 
Despite her generous eft'ort to show ap- 
preciation of the little that I had done 
for her so meanly, I saw that my pres- 
ence was irksome and my influence an 
evil. What could I do? 

'' Annette, do you not think it 
is wrong to do what you contem- 

'* Ah, yes," she replied, sinking back 
upon her pillow and covering her face 
with her hands. 

"Then," said I, "you know you 
should not do it. I don't wish to dic- 
tate to you or preach a sermon, but let 
me assure 3'ou, Annette, that violence 
to conscience is unnatural and unholy, 
and that it is unworthy of you. Think 
well, my child. . . And if I do not 
seem indelicate — how can I say with- 
out wounding you, Annette, that you 
need not fear the lack of such friend- 
ship in substantial form as I am able 
to give you?" 

There was a long silence, and I knew 
that she was sobbing. Hope quick- 
ened within me, only to be strangled 
at once, for Annette brokenly said 

" I appreciate your kindness and 



thank you with all my heart, but — Init 
— I am determined." 

Should I resort to harsh meas- 
ures to restrain her? That would 
be mean and cowardly. . . Annette 
must go. . . That deadening reali- 
zation forced itself upon me. . . I 
would not interfere with the exercis^e 
of a right which I considered sacred. 
. . Only one thing was left for me 
to do — I must be a friend now. 

"Annette," said I, "if you have the 
strength to listen to me I will tell you 
something very strange, and suitable 
only for the ears of those who contem- 
l^late the end with the willing mind of 
one anxious to accomplish it. It will 
not save you to me, but it will save 
your conscience to you, and your wish 
will be gratified without outrage to 
your sense of right." 

Annette fixed a very earnest look 
upon me. 

"I don't understand hoAV that can 
be," she said. 

" You are too weak. Take some of 
this broth, and then I wdll tell you a 
thing exceedingly strange and of the 
deepest interest to you." 

With surprising confidence in me, 
she swallowed the broth, and its good 
effect soon became manifest ; and when 
a little color had come to her cheeks 
and a healthier brightness to her eyes, 
I told her substantially the following: 

" I have a friend named Reiferth, a 
German of about my own age, and he 
and I have the same ideas concerning 
the matter that is in your mind. Now, 
as a fear of punishment in a future 
life deters many from committing the 
act who would be better off if not so 
restrained, Reiferth conceived the 
idea of forming a company which 
would undertake, for an ample consid- 
eration, to remove from this life, with- 
out inflicting pain, those who earnestly 
wish to go but fear to take the 
step for one reason or another, and 
Avho will submit themselves to the 
company to do for them what they 
fear to do for themselves. I refused, 
much to Reiferth's surprise, to become 
a member of the company; whereupon 
he charged me with inconsistency, and 

maintained that the purjiose of the 
company was wholly noble and 
humane. I believed that it was, but 
I did nor desire to embark in such an 
enterprise. Reiferth then declared 
that, knowing the scheme to be un- 
lawful and its practice attended with 
the gravest dangers, with the peniten- 
tiary or the scaffold a constant menace 
to its success, I was afraid to become 
his associate. I made no rejoinder to 
that charge. Then Reiferth asked me 
to help him if it should come in my 
way, and I promised that I would. 
Reiferth put his plan in operation in 
the very heart of San Francisco, and 
there is evidence that he has prospered 

"Annette," I said in conclusion, " I 
offer you this opportunity for accom- 
l)lishing your purpose without doing 
violence to vour conscience. What do 
you think of it ? " 

[I have no desire to justify myself 
in this matter, nor to deny the right 
of criticism which the upusual posi- 
tion here advanced may invite; but 
while I know that the scheme here 
l^roposed may be denounced as but a 
form of suicide, and that its accept- 
ance would bring all the penalties 
supposed to attach to that act, I have 
to say that I see little difference between 
its essence and that of knowingly ac- 
quiring habits and following practices 
which lead to the same result. It was 
important in this case that I impress 
upon Annette the idea of avoiding 
outrage to her conscience.] 

Annette had listened with an inter- 
est that absorbed every faculty; and 
when I had finished she sat upright in 
great excitement, and somewhat to my 
dismay she said: 

"Do vou know where the place is?" 


"What is it called?" 

"The Removal Company." 

" Will you take me to it?" 

" Annette, " 

•• Will you?" 

" Immediately?" 

•' Yes; now." 

"You are not strong enough, An- 



"I am perfectly well." she re- 
sponded, springing to her feet and 
commencing a few preparations. 

With a heart so heavy that it al- 
most dragged me to the floor I left the 
room and found my carriage still wait- 
ing. I went upstairs again, and An- 
nette at once took my arm and walked 
firmly down to the street. So strange 
a numbness possessed me that I hard- 
ly believed I was in my right mind. 
In the carriage Annette, who was now 
all eagerness and activity, saw that 
something w^as wrong with me." 

"Why," she cried, "you are ill!" 

" I think not, Annette." 

" I am taxing you too greatly — I am 
asking too much of you, . . but it will 
soon be over." 

We arrived at the quarters of the 
Removal Company — a silent old brick 
house, with little exterior sign of oc- 
cupancy. It was not far from the long 
warehouses that lie under the after- 
noon shadow^ of Telegraph Hill, and 
w^as in one of those districts which a 
vagrant fashion of migration had left 
a mere trace of former enterprise. 
Within the house all was brightness 
and modest luxury. Reiferth was a 
man of taste. He w^elcomed us very 
cheerfully. " I am sorry to see you 
ill, though," he said to me. He had a 
kind and gentle manner, and he hand- 
led with the utmost tact and delicacy 
the business in hand. I was hardly 
able to stand when Annette advanced 
to bid me farewell. Tears were in her 
eyes and she was pale, but her deter- 
mination was firm and her courage 
unflinching. She took my hand and 
looked up into my face long and 
searchingly. What sought she there, 
if anything? 

" Farewell, my friend," she said in a 
clear voice and with infinite tender- 

" Annette. " 

But she stopped my words by throw- 
ing her arms around my neck, and be- 
fore I could realize anything she had 
fled my presence, going w'ith Reiferth 
to another part of the house. As soon 
as I could order my understanding I 
followed, but the door by which they 

had left was locked. No longer could 
I stand; an unaccountable weakness 
seized me, and I sank into a chair. 
There I sat an indefinite time in a 
stupor, and was thus sitting when Rei- 
ferth returned. 

" Well?" I gasped. 

" It is all over." he said kindly. 
Then he quickly brought me some 
brandy, w^hich he made me drink. 

" Where is she?" I asked. 

" Upstairs." 

" May I see her?" 

" Why — no. I — I — don't think you 

" But I wish to." 

After some further demur he yielded. 
He supported me up the stairs and 
into a room. On a lounge lay Annette. 
At the door my heart had bounded 
wath gladness, for she appeared to be 
only sleeping; but when I had come 
nearer — I cannot write of all these ter- 
rible things even at this great distance 
of time. I had come to bid my poor 
Annette farew^ell now, for I could not, 
I could not in life. 

"Please leave me, Reiferth," I 

When he was gone I took the slight 
body in my arms and pressed it close, 
very close to my heart. I covered the 
W'hite, dead face with kisses. I kissed 
her hair and her sightless eyes, once so 
beautiful, and caressed the poor sunk- 
en cheeks. 

" Ah, Annette," I cried, " my ow'n 
little Annette, my Annette, I can tell 
you now what I have learned this day 
— that I love you; that I love joxi 
with all my heart and soul, and have 
loved you thus since the day w^hen you 
sought and found me in the great 
crowed at the convent. How blind 
and foolish I w^as, Annette! And now 
you are gone, and my heart is 

Reiferth came and took the poor 
dead body out of my arms and kindly 
led me away. ^Nly poor Annette! 

More than a year had passed, and I 
was standing listlessly on a street 
corner in Philadelphia. I could not 
live in San Francisco, for everything 



[.here was eloquent with the memory 
>f Annette. Darknesjs was approach- 
ing rapidly. I still stood, with that 
?ame dull pain which came upon me 
ivhen Annette started down stairs with 
me to the carriage. The night was 
2oming on cool wings, but its presence 
was soft and gentle. There was a shy 
touch on my elbow, and when I looked 
around I saw a beggar. She was small 
and slight, and was dressed in faded 
black. A black straw hat, with poor, 
cheap, faded lace, shaded her face from 
the street-lamp. 

"Will you please give me a little 
money, sir?" she pleaded. "My 
husband has gone away, and I have 
nothing to eat, and my poor baby is 

It was not the voice alone that came 
to me out of infinite distance; there 
came crowding with it a thousand 
memories and all the anguish of a 
blasted life. I was a broken man, 
carrying existence heavily, but the 
eagerness which surged up within me 
swept aside all the torpor of my being. 
Some strange movement must have 
alarmed the woman, for she quickly 
raised her face . . and there was 
not a trace of recognition in her eyes. 

"Annette!" I cried. "You know 
me — your guardian — your old friend, 
who reared vou from infancy — An- 
nette! " 

" I — I don't know you," she replied, 
with pitiful fright. "I am not An- 
nette — I never had a guardian"; and 
honesty shone luminous in every 

"But you are Annette," I protested, 
aghast, "and you must come with 

"No, no!" she cried, with worse 
fright still; and then she turned and 
ran away. 

I would not let her go so easily. I 
sprang forward and caught her, and 
held her firmly. 

" Do you hate me so much as this, 
Annette? " I asked with angry and 
unreasoning bitterness. " Tell me so, 
and I will let you go." 

"I don't hate you — I don't know 
vou — vou are mistaken. Let me go. 

I am afraid of you. 1 will cry out, 
and you shall be arrested." 

I released her, and she hurried away. 
Was there really some dreadful mis- 
take? Was it possible not to be cer- 
tain of that low, sweet voice, those 
beautiful eyes (now strangely dull), 
that lookot indescribable sadness, that 
small frail form, those exquisite graces 
of pose and movement? But if it were 
she, how could she, so honest and inno- 
cent, so much a stranger to deceit, con- 
ceal her surprise upon encountering 
me, and how assume entire ignorance 
of me? Here was a strange mystery — 
or — had I gone mad and taken to find- 
ing Annette in shadows? I glanced 
after her, and in the distance saw her 
hurrying along, fear lending fleetness 
to her step. Had I forgotten that An- 
nette was dead? — but would not even 
her spirit know me ? Without a thought 
of what I did I hurried after the flying 
form, which distance and darkness 
wei-e absorbing — I would not lose An- 
nette again. I went forthwith in pur- 
suit, holding my pace within the nec- 
essities of its mission, getting a firmer 
hand upon my eagerness, and looking 
to the ordering of my purpose; for if 
ever a man needed to be bold yet cau- 
tious, firm yet gentle,fearless in strange, 
dark perils and reliant upon the evi- 
dence of his senses, that man was I. 
Enough had come forth already to dis- 
tract my faculties; but Annette, dead 
or alive, had stood before me, and I 
would follow her now whithersoever 
the love which bound me to her might 

Without once having looked back, 
Annette arrived in a dark street, 
slipped quickly into a door, and in a 
moment a tall, ugly house had swal- 
lowed her up. I was now close behind 
her. I tried the door. She had bolted 
it. I rushed upon it madly, burst it 
open, and sent it flying against the 
wall with a crash that resounded 
throughout the depths of the house; and 
as I did so I saw Annette — for I must 
call her so — clearing the top step. She 
turned and saw me, and fled with a 
cry. Never bounded a deer with 
swifter leaps than mine. I was close 



upon her in a dimly lighted hall, 
when she flung opeii a door, cried 
" Mother!" in a choking fright, and as 
I pushed into the room threw herself 
into the arms of a strange, sinister 
woman, wrinkled and bent with age. 
There the poor girl, her face buried 
in the woman's shoulder, sobbed and 
gasped and trembled in a very agony 
of fear. In a moment a powerful man 
of middle age came hastily into the 
room behind me, and stepped to one 
side to see me better. Other men fol- 
lowed him — men with dull, vacant 
faces, whose blankness would have im- 
pressed me at another time; but 
through all these faces and circum- 
stances, through the turbulence of my 
emotions and the fierce energy of my 
purpose, there arose and stood forth the 
fact that this strong man and I were 
enemies — that between us two lay the 
settlement of this affair, and a dark pit 
yawned for him who should fall. He 
was the old woman's son: thus spoke 
his sharp eyes, somewhat dulled with 
drink, and his high cheek bones, like 
hers; the pose of his head and certain 
tokens of manner — all a copy of his 
mother's; but where coarse and brutal 
in him, sharp and cruel in her. Upon 
his body he wore only a woolen shirt, 
open at the breast, the sleeves rolled 
up, and upon his lower limbs coarse 

■' Well," said the man. his voice 
deep and his manner menacing, though 
betraying a puzzled mind, " who are 
you an' what yer tryin' to skeer them 
women to death fer?" 

Annette, controlling a sob, raised 
her face upon hearing his voice, and 
looked at him gratefully. 

"Joe," she said faintly, "I'm so 
glad you are here. You won't let him 
hurt me, will you, Joe?" 

"Not as long as them hands kin 
close up a windpipe," responded the 
man. making a significant prehensile 
movement with his fingers; "but I 
don't think nobody wants to hurt yer, 
Bess. Now go to the baby." 

Annette started and her lips opened. 
With a little cry she ran to a cradle in 
the corner —a very poor and shabby 

cradle — and tenderly lifted a sleeping 
infant. "Poor little angel," she crooned. 
" Did you think your mother had for- 
gotten you?" 

Its mother? 

" Whose child is that?" I asked the 
man, and he noted the threat and chal- 
lenge in my voice. 

" I don't know what right vou 

"I have a right, and we will not dis- 
cuss it," I peremptorily interrupted. 

" — to come here an' raise this 
rumpus an' skeer a couple o' women, 
but if you'll be decent an' kind, like, 
about it. vou kin ax my sister her- 

" Who is your sister?" 

" Bess, there." He motioned toward 
Annette — Annette, gentle, dainty, re- 
fined, fall of the softest graces — Annette 
the sisterof this ruffian! "Come, Bess," 
said he, " brace up an' answer this 
man's questions. I won't let him hurt 
yer. You're jest as safe as you ever 
wuz in yer life. Tell him what he 
wants ter know, and tell it straight up 
'n' down." 

Thus encouraged — and, I could see, 
half commanded also — Annette (for I 
must call her that yet) turned and 
looked at me for the first time since I 
had entered the room. All hope that 
she might recognize me in the stronger 
light was dissipated instantly; she re- 
garded me only with fear and uneasi- 
ness. I approached her closer. 

" Annette," I said, removing my hat 
and looking down into her face as she 
sat holding the child 

" My name is not Annette," she 
hastily interjected. 

"What is your name, then?" 

" Elizabeth. My mother and my 
brother Joe call me Bess." This, look- 
ing up at me in the fullness of honesty, 
but perplexed and fearful. 

" What is your other name?" 

" Hartly. That is my husband's 

I staggered under that blow, and 
the sharp eyes of the old woman and 
her son were fastened upon me with a 
steadv gleam that burned. 

" Whose child is that ?" The words 



came with effort from a great deptli 
within me. 

"It is mine. Her name is Pearl. I 
am her mother." 

Thereupon I went all astray from 
myself, and looked around with help- 
less dismay. The four sharp eyes were 
consuming me. Annette — ma}'- I so 
call her yet? — gazed steadily up at me 
with all her old gentleness and sweet- 
ness, but still with fear and anxiety. 
Beyond the four burning eyes were 
the faces of men who stared in blank 
stupidity. I looked down at Annette, 
and there too I saw now, not clearly, if 
at all, something of the stamp of va- 
cuity which was upon the faces of 
these ragged men grouped near the 
■door. I was groping in a gloomy path 
beset with deep pits, and I breathed 
uncertain dangers. The four eyes 
burned me with a glowing heat. In a 
tangle of betrayed senses I essayed a 
persistence which I hoped would drag 
Annette forth from what I conceived 
to be some grim and overmastering 

"Where is your husband?" I asked. 

Annette was puzzled or cautious, for 
her glance flew for help to the man 

" Where is your husband?" I 
pressed it upon her, feeling that I 
possibly had touched a spring. The 
man's sharp gaze was transferred from 
me to her. 

"Answer him fair, Bess," he said, 
not unkindly; "give him the straight 

"He has gone to sea," answered 
Annette, looking up at me in a wonder- 
ing and troubled manner. 

"When did he go?" 

She appeared to be thinking very 
hard and sounding her memory for an 
honest answer. 

"It was while I was ill," she finally 
said with some suddenness, and with 
much pride in her victory of recollec- 

" You have been very ill? " 

"Oh, yes; very ill indeed." 

"When was it?" 

" It was when my baby was born." 
{Here she began to speak with a 

quick, nervous energy.) "I didn't 
know it until a long time afterward — 
I was so very ill — and my husband 
was not with me. When I recovered 
I had forgotten I was married. I was 
in a strange " 

"Stop there, Bess," fiercely cried 
the man. She obeyed instantly and 
trembled. " You've got one o' them 
spells o' your'n agin, an' yer tellin' 
what yer don't know, an' yer lett'n' yer 
tongue run away with yer senses. 
Forgot yer husband! Forgot yer was 
married! Maybe you've forgot I'm 
yer brother," 

"No," faintly protested the girl, re- 
garding him with wide eyes; "no, Joe; 
I haven't forgotten that, but I forget 
so many- 

" Who's this woman here?" de- 
manded the man, indicating his 

"My mother. But, Joe " 

" Shut up! You've got one o' them 
crazy spells agin. Now, mister," 
added he, turning angrily upon me, 
"it's about time yer cleared out o' 
here, ain't it?" With increasing anger 
he continued : " You chased this here 
girl to her house, an' smashed in the 
door like a wild beast, and tore in here 
like as if you was goin' to murder the 
poor thing, an' now you've set her wits 
loose an' brung on another o' them 
wanderin' an' fergettin' spells. That's 
why I say you'd jist better clear out." 

The man was in a rage; and, seeing 
that I did not move, he stepped to the 
chimney and took an axe-handle from 
the corner. At this juncture the old 
woman came out of her silence. 

" No, Joe," she said with a strong, 
quiet firmness; " don't lose yer head, 
my son, for yer need a cool brain an' a 
stiddy nerve right here and right now. 
There's jist a misunderstandin' sum- 
mers, an' it'll come out all right." Joe 
became quiet, and his mother turned 
to me and said: "You look lack a 
gentlemun, sir, an' no doubt you air; 
an' yer don't look lack you'd been a- 
drinkin'; but you'll allow you've acted 
very queer — I might say outrageous- 
like — an' my son ain't to be blamed 
fer gittin' mad at yer. Now, to save 



my blessed life I don't know what yer 
drivin' at, but I b'lieve yer actin' on 
good principles and have mistook this 
girl fer summon else, 'cause you've 
been callin' her Ninette, or somethin'. 
You suspec' there's somethin' wrong, 
an' yer think yer know the girl, an' 
want ter get her out o' this scrape." 
And so the woman talked on, review- 
ing the whole situation with uncom- 
mon skill, reminding me that the girl 
did not know me, that in all her an- 
swers she had tried to tell the truth 
so far as a shattered mind would 
permit. The woman closed a long 
speech by going into a tedious history 
of the girl's life and assuring me that 
unrestricted opportunity would be 
given for an official investigation on 
the morrow. But the whole of this 
fine effort passed without effect upon 

" No ! I exclaimed. " I will not trust 
her another night in your devilish 
hands. There is some crime here of 
so damnable a character that it over- 
whelms your lies. I will spare you the 
law on condition that you stand aside 
and let me take away this girl in 

Upon saying that I picked up An 
nette and her child and advanced to- 
ward the crowd that held the passage 
to the door, but the fury of the man 
.Joe escaped restraint, and he sprang 
before me with his weapon aloft. 

"No!" he cried with an oath; "not 
while I'm alive." 

In an instant I had put Annette 
aside and sent a chair flying through 
the glass window. I leaped to the 
opening it made and cried out with all 
my strength. The call for help went 
bounding up and down the street from 
other throats, and swift feet were set 
in motion. I glanced back upon my 
enemies. The furious ruffian, taken 
unaware, had stood a moment in a 
stupor; but now, having roused him- 
self, he came upon me with the one 
purpose of killing me. At that mo- 
ment the shrill whistle of a policeman, 
always a thing Avhich strikes upon 
one's sensibilities much as a physical 
blow, went at large upon the night and 

thrilled all the ruffian's nerves and 
drew the sap from his purpose; pallor 
swept over his face, his hand dropped. 

".Joe," called his mother, in sharp 
anxiety, " git them fellers away quick 
an' come back here. WeHl see yit.'^ 

The man, quickened by a sense of 
danger, hustled aw^ay the dumb blank 
creatures and returned simultaneously 
with two officers, who headed a proces- 
sion of frightened and curious people. 

" Shut the door," I called out. The 
officers came Avithin and the door was 
closed upon the crowd. 

"Who was it called for help? What 
is the matter?" asked one of the officers. 

" It was I who called," I answered. 

"Oho, Simpson!" said the same 
officer, addressing Joe. "Trying to do 
this man, eh? You've been quiet so 
long that I thought you had given up 
that sort of thing and was sticking to 
the begging business. . . Well, what 
has he been trying on you, sir?" con- 
cluded the officer, addressing me. 

" Nothing, I assure you," I replied, 
"but this girl, whom I have known 
from her infancy — I found her here 
and would have taken her away, but 
this man tried to kill me. I want you 
to help me rescue her from this fearful 

" That girl with the child ? Oh, she's 
one of Simpson's best beggars!" 

Upon his requesting it, I gave a re- 
lation of all that had happened since 
I first saw Annette on the street. 
" She is one of his beggars, you say," I 
added; "there is yet a deeper and more 
damnable infamy. They say she is 
married. It is a lie; but see, she is a 

"Ah!" exclaimed the officer, fixing 
a hard look upon Simpson, who, en- 
caged within grave suspicions, appealed 
with his eyes to his mother. She there- 
upon said: 

" I'd lack ter speak a word private 
to this gentlemun." 

" I went with her into a corner of 
the room, and we whispered. 

" What yer want ter do, sir?" she 

" I intend to take this girl to the 
police station." 



"Ah, well! She's Jementy, like; 
an', 'twixt you an' me, I ain't sorry 
ter git rid of her." 

"You and your son also will go to the 
station, but as prisoners, to be tried 
and punished for your crimes." 

This to her was not unexpected; Init 
she fastened her gaze upon me with a 
penetrating, sinister, unwavering man- 
ner, and it hurt. 

" I don't think you'd better do that," 
she said, not relaxing her gaze, and 
speaking very slowly. " Once there 
was a man what connivered in 
schemes fer to remove people what 
didn't have the sand fer to kill their- 
selves, an' when some folkses found it 
out they blowed on him, an' he spent 
the rest of his life in the state's prison. 
. . . Me 'n' my son don't want no 
trouble with you, an' you don't look 
lack a gentlemun what's got a wobbly 

I left her and returned to the 
officers. Annette sat holding her child 
tenderly, but with a look so pathetic 
and helpless, so confused with fright 
and a shaken consciousness, that while 
I yearned to comfort her I could see 
that whatever little mind she had was 
drifting away. I said to the officers: 

" I wish to take this girl and her 
■child to Dr. Arnold's hospital. \<"\\\ 
you kindly help me?" 

" And Simpson goes to the station?" 
I heard the sharp clinking of hand- 

" No — not to-night; there is time for 
that. Help me in the present ur- 

Annette's resistance was slight, and 
there was no other. She sobbed all 
the way in the carriage, and talked in- 
C!oherently to her fretting child. She 
was made comfortable at the hospital, 
but she sobbed continuously. " Her 
dementia," said Dr. Arnold, " is almost 
complete. The shock has been too 
great." I took him wholly into ray 
confidence, omitting not even the 
Removal Company and Annette's ex- 
perience there. He asked me many 
questions; his mind was quicker and 
deeper and shrewder than mine. 
^' Without knowing it," he said, after a 

long silence spent in pacing the floor, 
"you have unearthed a singular and 
original form of crime. The Removal 
Company has never killed any one." 

I looked at him amazed and incredu- 

"Not one," he continued. "The 
victims were simply treated with a 
drug which destroyed their minds 
partly and their memory wholly. Are 
you so confiding as to believe that 
Reiferth would have dared take any 
one's life? The risk was too great, and 
the plan lacked that merit of con- 
tinued profit which distinguishes the 
one in actual operation." 

I did not understand him. 

" \\'ith wrecked minds the victims 
would make good beggars," explained 
the doctor. " The wretches are sent 
from San Francisco to Philadelphia, 
where the danger of recognition is 
small, and are kept as beggars under 
the reliable agency of Mr. Joe Simpson- 
and his mother; and your Removal 
Company has a steady income through 
their zeal. The blank-faced men 
whom you saw at Simpson's, as well 
as this poor girl, have been subjected 
to the peculiar treatment of the Re- 
moval Company, and are employed as 

I think I hardly understood all of 
this at the time, for I was weak from a 
great strain, and nervously awry from a 
certain strange, wild joy for having 
Annette alive and under my care once 

"Can you restore her to her former 
condition of mind?" I asked. 

Gravely and slowly he made answer: 
"There is a bare possibility. . . . 
The plan must be heroic and desperate. 
... If it fails — death or complete 

It came out afterward, in an investi- 
gation of Simpson's methods, that my 
poor Annette, Avhose innocence and 
sweetness must have been her guard 
against even the lowest brutality, had 
never been a mother; that was a decep- 
tion practiced upon her to make her 
captivity surer. 

" Ah," exclaimed Annette, upon 
emerging, after many days, from those 



great depths, ''lam still alive! Why 
did not Mr. Reiferth keep his promise? 
Have I been asleep long?" 

Ay, more than a year, Annette; 
but the hideous dreams of that black 
and terrible time have left no stamp 
upon your memory! 

The sweet, cool western wind and 
the generous sunshine come to Cali- 
fornia, bringing their blessings to the 
rich and the poor, the prosperous and 

the unfortunate, the happy and the 
despairing; but I think that the gentle 
winds and the shining years bless with 
a special grace one happy home, which, 
born of suffering, of strange misunder- 
standings, of crime, of darkness, has 
issued forth into the broad yellow light 
that heaven sends, grateful, humble, 
inexpressibly content. That home is 
our's — Annette's and mine; for not 
alone have the church and the law 
made us man and wife. 

® '^T' / J55^^ 



iv Hon. B. S. Eaton. 


railroads are 
one of the 
many nota- 
Ijle acliieve- 
meiits of the 
last ([uarter of 
century, — the 
first one having 
been completed in 
July, 1869. Modern 
science does not pre- 
suppose an}^ physical obstacle in en- 
gineering that skill and pluck can- 
not overcome. Streams so broad and 
deep that they seem insuperable bar- 
riers to land travel, are spanned by 
bridges, resting safely on a succession 
of massive piers of masonry; and river 
banks which have been so dissevered 
by physical forces as not to admit of 
this method of connection, are re- 
united by supporting ropes of steel, 
so that man may safely cross in 
the rushing car hundreds of feet above 
foaming torrent or fearful chasm. 
^Mountains are pierced from side to 
side so that, through miles of solid 
r(jck, the stream of travel and trade 
n)ay flow on as securely through the 
bowels of the earth as over the 
smoothest of its plains. But it has 
remained for the last quarter-century 
to devise methods by which the sum- 
niits of high mountains niay be 
reached with ease, speed and safety. 

The first mountain railroad ever 
built was that by Sylvester jMarsh on 
Mt. Washington, 5s' ew Hampshire, 
which was begun in 1866 and com- 
pleted in 1869, two months after the 
opening of the Union Pacific road. 
Until L876 the little village of Marsh- 
field, on the mountain side, less than 
three miles below the summit, re- 
mained its starting point. From this 
place upward the railway has an aver- 
age grade of 1,300 feet to the mile, 
while the maximun) grade is 1,980 
feet or 184 inches to the vard. .Vs 

Marshfield lies at an elevation of 
2,56o feet, while the mountain is 
6.273 feet high, there is left 3,710 feet 
of altitude to be overcome in less than 
three miles! Yet, so far as we can 
learn, no serious accident has ever 
occurred on this railroad, although it 
is estimated that 30,000 persons are 
carried over it annually. 

What Sylvester ^larsh has done for 
the White ^lountains, a public-spirited 
citizen and scientist of California pro- 
poses to accomplish for that State. 
Several years ago Professor T. S. C'. 
Lowe, while traveling through South- 
ern California became interested in 
the natural beauties of the section and 
decided to make it his permanent 
home. To his friends he said he was 
going to rest, but the innate energy of 
the man has made him one of the most 
active figures among the upbuilders of 
this portion of the State. He settled in 
Pasadena, building there a home which 
is one of the finest and largest pri- 
vate residences in the State, enriched 
with the accumulations of travel over 
the world. From the lofty tower of 
his house Professor Lowe has one 
of the finest views of the Sierra INLidres 
in the San Gabriel Valley, and it was 
perhaps the contemplation of this that 
suggested the building of a mountain 
road that would take the tourist from 
the valley to the summit of Wilson's 
Peak in a short sjDace of time, while 
afibrding an opportunity to enjoy the 
magnificent scenery. Professor Lowe has 
always been identified with some pro- 
ject of more than ordinary magnitude. 
He is the father of scientific aeronaut- 
ics in this country, and originated the 
plan of using balloons in war. From 
early life he has been a close student, 
devoting his attention especially to 
chemistry and kindred pursuits; mak- 
ing a specialty of the experiments in 
which the various gases and their rela- 
tions, one to the other, played a promi- 
nent part. In 1857 he noticed that 



little attention had been given to the 
scientific study of aeronautics in this 
coimtry, and with his accustomed en- 
ergy he took it up and began an 
elaborate series of experiments. His 
first voyage celebrated the laying of 
the Atlantic cable, and was made from 
Ottawa, and in 1859 he constructed the 
largest aerostat ever built with a view 
of crossing the ocean, for the pur- 
poses of gaining knowledge of such 
meteorological phenomena as might 
not exist over the land. In 1860, at 
the invitation of the Franklin In- 
stitute of Philadel- 
phia, he made a 
second attempt, 
Avhich resulted in 
a memorial, signed 
by many distin- 
guished citizens of 
Philadelphia, ad- 
dressed to Profes- 
sor Henry of the 
Smithsonian. A 
result of this was 
that Professor 
Lowe became the 
inventor of a mete- 
orological system 
of which the pres- 
ent weather bureau 
is an outcome. He 
outlined a plan by 
which observations 
could be taken from 
high altitudes in 
various parts of the 
country and tele- 
graphed to a bu- 
reau in Washing- 
ton. His views were given freely to 
General Meyers, and as a result we 
have the present system. At the 
suggestion of Professor Henry, Pro- 
fessor Lowe made an experimental 
trip over the country l^efore starting 
across the ocean. He left Cincinnati, 
Ohio, at 4 in the morning, April 20, 
1861, and landed on the coast of 
South Carolina at 12 the same day, 
making the longest and quickest voy- 
age on record. This was two weeks 
after the firing on Sumpter, and the 
scientist was arrested and thrown into 

Professor T. S. C. Lowe. 

prison by the Confederate authorities, 
but succeeded five days later in reach- 
ing Cincinnati again. The President, 
through Secretary Chase, then requested 
his presence at Washington, where he 
organized the war balloon observation 
corps, and for three years was chief 
aeronaut, rendering valuable service to 
the C4overnment. During this time he 
made three thousand ascensions, and 
was the first to establish telegraphic 
communication from a balloon. His 
system and the many inventions con- 
nected with it attracted world-wide 
attention, and was 
adopted by the 
British, French 
and Brazilian ar- 
mies, the Emperor 
of Brazil tendering 
him the rank of 
brigadier general, 
with large extra 
pay, if he would un- 
dertake the charge 
of the corps in the 
imperial army. 
Professor Lowe's 
contributions to 
science have been 
many and valu- 
able. Among them 
may be mentioned 
the ice-making in- 
vention now in gen- 
eral use over the 
world, and the 
fa m o u s water-gas 
process for illu- 
minating and heat- 
ing, which is used 
in over five hundred cities in this 
country and Europe. 

His inventions have all been useful, 
and those intended for profit have in 
every instance proved financial suc- 

Of his business experience and abil- 
ity we have only to refer to some of the 
institutions of which he is the present 
head. He is President of the Citizens' 
Bank of Los Angeles, Cal.; the Los 
Angeles Safe Deposit and Trust Co. 
the Pasadena Gas and Electric Co. 
the Colorado Springs Gas and Elec 



trie Co. He is Director, Consulting 
Engineer and a large oAvner in the Los 
Angeles Lighting Co.; Director in the 
Citizens Ice Co. of Los Angeles and in 
the Pasadena Fruit Packing Co. Pro- 
fessor Lowe is also owner of the Pasa- 
dena (jrrand Opera House Block, in- 
cluding the finest Opera House on the 
Pacific Coast; President of the Pacific- 
Lowe Gas and Electric Co. ; owner of 
the New Lowe Gas and Electric system 
for the United States, Canadas and 
Mexico; and, lastly, President of the 
Pasadena and Mt. Wilson Railway 

8uch is a brief glance of the man 
who has undertaken to build the finest 
mountain railroad in the world, and 
give to California an institution that 
will attract thousands to its shores. 
Professor Lowe's associates in this great 
work are all men of mark and notable 
business intuition. The vice president 
of the road is the Hon. P. M. Green, 
president of the First National Bank 
of Pasadena, who has been a promi- 
nent figure in the development of this 
section of Southern California. The 
treasurer is T. AV. Brotherton, Vice- 
President of the Citizens' Bank of 
Los Angeles, while as an advisory 
board are the following well-known 
men, whose names are all associated 
with great successes in mercantile 
or commercial life. Gov. H. H. 
^Markham, H. "W. Magee, president 
of the San Gabriel Valle}^ Bank; J. W. 
Hugus, president of the First National 
Bank of Pvawlins, Wyoming; Dr. R. 
H. aNIcDonald, president of the Pacific 
Bank of San Francisco; Andrew Mc- 
Nally. of Rand, McNally, the Chicago 
publishers; Hon. P. M. Green, presi- 
dent of the First National Bank of 
Pasadena; J. W. Scoville, president of 
the Prairie State National Bank of 
Chicago; Hon. T. P. Lukens, Pasadena 
National Bank, and A. C. Armstrong, 
of Pasadena. 

Before glancing at the proposed 
work in the Southern Sierras it may 
be interesting to note some of the 
mountain railroads of the world that 
are already financial successes. 

In the Alps we may mention the 

one that winds up to the top of Mt. 
Rigi, and another which accomplishes 
the still steeper ascent of Mt. Pilatus. 
Then there are two others near the 
Rhine, one climbing Mt. Drachenfals 
and the other the Neiderwald, while in 
Italy we are carried in a railway car 
to the crater of Mt. Vesuvius. Return- 
ing to our own country, in addition to 
the pioneer road up Mt. Washington, 
there have been built two among the 
Alleghanies, near Reading, Penn., one 
that scales Lookout Mountain, and, last 
and highest of all, the railway lately 
finished to the summit of Pike's Peak. 
Mt. Wilson is one the prominent 
peaks of that section of the Coast range 
known as the Sierra Madre, and which 
forms the northern boundary of Los 
Angeles valley. Along this mountain 
chain there are several peaks as high 
as ]Mt. Wilson, and one ortwo that are 
higher, all connected by steep and nar- 
row rocky ridges, most of which are 
very difficult to traverse. To the west 
stands Table ^Mountain, of equal height, 
and beside it " the Connnodore," or San 
Gabriel, about six hundred feet higher, 
while farther on lies Mt. Disappoint- 
ment, all plainly visible from the val- 
ley, but almost inaccessible on account 
of their ruggedness and entire lack of 
water. The special charm to the ex- 
plorer of the wilds of Mt. Wilson is 
that near its summit there is plenty of 
the pure, cool liquid, while not for 
miles on either hand can any water be 
found on the higher portions of the 
range. Yet it is but recently that pub- 
lic attention has been specially directed 
to this wonderfully attractive locality. 
To learn how this grand recess of na- 
ture could so long remain hidden, we 
nnist refer briefly to some historical in- 
cidents connecting it with the recent 
incoming of American citizens to this 
part of the State. 

About twenty-five years ago B. D. 
Wilson, a pioneer in Southern Cali- 
fornia, conceived the idea of procuring 
fence material from the mountain for 
use on his large estate. The scheme of 
a wagon I'oad up its steep, rough sides 
was found to be futile, and even the 
opening of a trail that could be used 


1)V the siuv-footed little J>i(rr<), when 
loaded, was no small undertaking. 
After a while ^Ir. Wilson found that 
the timber was not durable enough to 
pay the cost of getting it down, so the 
trail was abandoned. In the lapse of 
years it was washed out by rains, grew 
up to brush, and became almost oblit- 
erated. But the settlement of Los 
Angeles valley went on, the land along 
the base of the mountains was becom- 
ing peopled, and soon the daring hunter 
and eager sight-seer were inquiring for 
the '"old Wilson trail." Gradually 
the thorny brush was cut away, and 
the damages w^rought by winter rains 
repaired, so that men with their pack- 
burros could reach the heights, camp 
in the evergreens, catch the trout, and 
enjoy ''high life" in a primitive man- 
ner. Still the journey thither was too 
toilsome for many to make, as bedding 
and provisions must be packed up the 
narrow path,while deep chasms yawned 
below, as if waiting for man or beast, 
that should slip or stumble. Hence, 
while those who did go said " it paid " 
to have been thereonce.once was voted 

A new and different kind of interest 
in Wilson Peak is now to be chronicled, 
and one that will prove — has already 
proved — the germ of an enterprise of 
w^orld-wade fame. In the fall of 1888, 
Harvard University, having on the Pa- 
cific Coast a large photographing tele- 
scope — 14-iiich glass — consented, on 
certain conditions, to place this instru- 
ment on Mt. Wilson for a period of 
four months, and thus determine what 
special advantages the location might 
have as a site for an observatory. 
This, should it be erected, would be 
furnished with the largest photogra])h- 
ing telescope in the world — one with a 
24-inch lens, now in process of manu- 
facture. The results of the four months' 
sojourn of the astronomical outfit were 
so remarkable that the time was pro- 
longed to a year, and so well satisfied 
were the Faculty of Harvard that right 
here was the gem of all known locali- 
ties for this branch of their scientific 
investigations, that prompt action was 
begun with a view to acquiring a clear 

title to as much land on the summit 
as would subserve all their purposes. 
But the telescope that had, for a year, 
done so much for astronomy on "Sli. 
Wilson, had had a "great time" in mak- 
ing the trip. It had literally gone per 
aspera ad astiri. Its entire fixtures, 
with the packing cases, weighed no 
less than 8,800 pounds, so that much 
had to be done to the trail before the 
safe conveyance of the precious tube 
could be effected; but the doing of it, 
with its attendant difficulty and ex- 
l^ense, roused the people of Pasadena 
as nothing else could have done to the 
imperative need of a good road up ]Mt. 
W^ilson. With two still larger tele- 
scopes to go up there, with all that the 
erection of an observatory and related 
buildings may imply, and the wants 
of an ever-increasing flood of visitors 
to provide for — it is certain that ire 
nmst have a railroad. 

Of course, after enough had been 
done to the old trail to make the con- 
veyance of the present telescope possi- 
ble, it was passable for travelers on foot 
and on horseback, and soon the silent 
heights were invaded by thousands of 
people, and the long-neglected peak 
became famous. Though the trip still 
has much of toil and a spice of danger, 
hundreds take it, and camps and res- 
taurants near the summit are hard 
pressed to find bed and board for the 
eager throng. What wonder then that 
the call for a railroad should echo 
from cliff to cliff" of our mountain, and 
that the vallev should murmur the re- 
frain ? 

A ])reliminary movement has been 
made in this direction, and the result 
is a new and better trail for saddle an- 
imals, and one that is generally more 
safe. Following the spur which forms 
the eastern boundary wall of Eaton can- 
3^on, we find an almost continuous line 
of ascent from the base to the crest, and 
this was chosen for the new trail be- 
cause, by its windings and doublings, 
it could reach the top without trestle 
work, and with only one bridge. It 
has an easy grade, plenty of dirt for 
the roadbed, and is free from special 
danger from storm-water in time of 



rain. But not long will the people tol- 
erate burro and mule riding and pack- 
ing in an age like the present. The 
railway " with all the modern appli- 
ances " will soon carry ,us skyward, 
even from a bath in the ocean surf at 
ten o'clock to a seat on Mt. Wilson's 
crest ere the sun shall have made half 
his course from noon to the hour of set- 
ting. Can such a location longer fail 
of appreciation ? No — the railroad is 

tion railway can easily be made to sur- 
mount the rest, while giving us by its 
curves a chance to view the whole of 
Pasadena in differing aspects. To the 
north the rugged mountain wall shuts 
off distant views, but is impressive in 
its rough grandeur. It is mostly cov- 
ered by a thick growth of brush, which 
relieves its otherwise barren a2:)pear- 
ance. But look southward as we jour- 
ney toward the base. Yonder lies the 
" city of homes," spread out in one 

View of Ferns near Lower Depot, January First. 

Let us anticipate the good time ap- 
proaching by taking an imaginary trip 
on the rail. A half hour brings us 
from Los Angeles to the center of Pas- 
adena, 843 feet above sea level, and 
only three miles on an air line from 
the initial point of the ixiountain road 
proper. But this three miles has an 
average slope of 230 feet to the mile. 
The Altadena road has already, in 
seven miles of detour, overcome over 
half of this ascent, and two-thirds of 
the direct distance. An ordinary trac- 

broad panorama of beauty. There are 
its parks, and orchards; there its gar- 
dens and grounds displaying the fruits 
and flowers of every clime; there stand 
its mansions, with lawn and terrace 
adorned with walks and statuary, and 
all that wealth and taste can contrib- 
ute. Another curve of the railway, and 
we see streets embowered with the pep- 
per and the palm, and lined with cot- 
tages covered with climbing roses — a 
veritable fairy-land. As we recede 
from these we can still mark the loca- 



tion of the large school buildings, and 
count the spires of its uuiny temples of 
worship. We begin the ascent, catch- 
ing here and there a glimpse among 
the foothills of little canyons witli 
spots of fertile soil watered by trickling 
brooks that have tempted hither the 
quiet settler. Here, away from the 
noise of town, many a picturesque 
home has been made, supplied with 
fruit trees and adorned with flowers, 
where the owner may rest content, en- 
joying much of pleasure that is un- 
shared by denizens of thickly settled 
communities. But sweep on and up, 
further into the rocky solitude, and the 
view below is shut out, while new and 
varying oVjjects engross the attention. 
We are threading our way along the 
western bank of Eaton canyon. Adown 
the rocky bed, far below us, in winter 
there dashes a raging torrent of water 
which dwindles in summer to a small, 
silver brook. So steep is the bed of 
this canyon that while we enter it 
several hundred feet above its bed, we 
find that long ere we reach its summit 
we shall be gliding on our upward way 
along its rocky bottom. In whatever 
direction we gaze it is now mountains, 
all mountains — wild, irregular, inde- 
scribable. In one place a mural preci- 
pice rises from the canyon bed 500 to 
600 feet perpendicular, then slopes 
gradually back an indefinite distance. 
This and other like cliffs could not be 
ascended from the base, and the slopes 
above are covered with a thorny growth 
so dense that no one can penetrate it 
until a path has been chopped out foot 
by foot. Occasionally, as we wind 
around some projecting rock, we catch 
a glimpse of the temporary observatory 
3000 feet above us. When we entered 
the canyon we were only three and a 
half miles — air line — from that point, 
and yet, after passing over nearly twice 
that number of miles of track, we are 
only half way up. Such is the clear- 
ness of the atmosphere that it seems 
as if a bird could reach it by a mile of 
flight ; yet there are cliff's so frightful 
and gorges so deep between us and our 
goal that even wild animals avoid 
them, as if in fear of being entrapped 

therein. But, tlianks to engineering 
skill, we wind safely in and out among 
tlieir recesses, and soon reach the point 
where the narrow and crooked chasm 
broadens, and we find ourselves on the 
" pine level." Instead of a walled-in 
and narrow valley, we are in a bi-oad 
basin that appears entirely surrounded 
by mountains. Countless smaller can- 
yons branch off" in every direction, as 
if seeking a place of exit. Dark fir 
trees, with lofty pines and cedars, 
adorn their sides and hide in their re- 
cesses, beckoning us to explore their 
cool depths, where, perchance, over 
some cliff" there tumbles a crystal cas- 
cade, the water below rippling and rol- 
licking on until it falls into a mirror- 
like pool, the home of the mountain 

Another one thousand feet up and 
we are still in the pines; in fact the 
forest region reaches to the moiuitain 
top. We are now as high as the city 
of Denver, and as the Lick Observatory 
on Mt. Hamilton. Now we encounter 
a chaos of enormous granite boulders — 
the original field whence came the hard, 
heavy spheres that abound in the beds 
of all our mountain streams, miles 
away from any formation that could 
have produced them. Up here these 
granite rocks are as irregular and angu- 
lar as if thrown out by a blast, or reft 
from their original stratum by some 
convulsion of nature, while down below 
in the torrent beds, their features are 
rounded, their angles worn away by 
attrition and the action of water, till 
often their surfaces are fairly polished. 
A little further on, and for the first 
time since leaving the valley, we 
emerge in full view of Mt. Kinneyloa. 
This is a spur from the main ridge, 
running out in a southern direction at 
nearly right angles, and has the gen- 
eral contour of a lofty headland or 
promontory jutting out into the plain. 
Viewed from below, Mt. Kinneyloa ap- 
pears like an innnense number and 
endless variety of rocks p7e(/ up in the 
most promiscuous manner. To the 
observer in the valley it seems higher 
than the main ridge, and is sometimes 
mistaken for ]Mt. Wilson itself, though 



it is really three hundred feet lower. 
This is a spot inueh fre(|uented of late. 
])eeaiise it aff'ords a fine point of obser- 
vation, having a large scope of horizon 
on account of its singular position. Its 
highest point is distant about one mile 
from AVilson Peak, and is reached l)y 
a footpath branching off from the "old 
trail." This curious mountain spur 
forms the divide between the Eaton 
and the Santa Anita canyons, and is 
so precipitous along portions of its 
sharp backbone, that rocks thrown 
down on either side, will not stop until 

workmen, though it required the labor 
of two men half a day to clear off ami 
level ground enough for a couple of 
tents. After the workmen left, a Pasa- 
dena caterer conceived the idea of 
establishing a permanent camp for the 
entertainment of visitors. And he 
made a success of it, notwithstanding 
it was near 5,000 feet above his base 
of supplies, which must all be con- 
veyed thither on the backs of animals. 
Yet his guests were treated to all the 
market affords — fresh meats, fruits 
and vegetables, which the fierce appe- 



Mr. Wilson Rail ROAD 

U/I/ON PMro^FVO. CO s.f 

Map (.f the Mt. Wilson RoaJ. 

they reach the bed of the mountain 
creeks, perhaps 1,000 or 2,000 feet be- 
low. Such a favorite pastime has this 
been with visitors that hardly a rock 
of moveable size, that is big enough to 
make a racket in falling, can be found 
in these sections of the ridge pathway. 
About half way l)etween this peak and 
Mt. Wilson a saddle or depression in 
the connecting ridge marks the head 
of the west fork of the Santa Anita 
canyon. When the Harvard telescope 
was taken up a camp was established 
here for the accommodation of the 

tites of mountain climbers could not 
fail to appreciate. This mountain 
restaurant business grew apace; more 
ground was cleared and more tents 
erected, until now the "camp" has the 
appearance of a miniature village. 
And, though the place has changed 
hands, it still continues to enlarge its 
borders, coinpelled thereto by the ever- 
increasing throng of sight-seers. This 
station or camp is a half mile below 
the summit, as the old trail goes, but it 
has a fine outlook to the south and 
west, and a few minutes' walk will 



take you to the points of rare interest. 
But the train moves, and winding 
gracefully round the head of Eaton 
canyon, gradually gains in its north- 
westward sweep a low point of the main 
ridge, where the track passing over; 
doubles back upon the northern slope. 
But before making the last principal 
curve let us take a comprehensive view 
of the great amphitheater, along the 
upper edge of which we have been 
skirting to reach the crossing point. 
Before gaining the little village of 
tents we had been going to the south- 
eastward, but since passing that loca- 
tion we been retraversing the same 
slope, only at a higher level, from 
which the view baffles description. 
You pass in review almost the entire 
route over which you have come, and 
wonder how, almost unconsciously, 
you have been conveyed to such an al- 
titude. Directly below you lies the 
great basin into which the canyon we 
ascended has conducted us. Glancing 
back at its tortuous and oft-hidden 
course, we can see how spurs from the 
mountains, on either side continually 
project themselves into its bed, as 
if enviously trying to prevent the for- 
mation of a highway by which the wa- 
ters of this broad depression might 
have egress to the thirsty plains be- 
low. Scattered through the basin are 
baby mountains of cone-like form, 
clothed, like their more pretentious 
neighbors, with forests of pine and fir. 
Countless ravines seam the rim of this 
great upper valley, which all pay their 
winter tribute of water to the main 
stream that forces its way down the 
great canyon, while here and there 
we see the beetling precipice, on whose 
side no foothold could be found, yet 
the top is crowned with lofty trees. 
This description of scenery would be 
incomplete did we not pause to review 
the flora of the region through which 
our railway has passed. For miles be- 
fore we reach the base of the moun- 
tains, there are, in springtime, great 
fields covered for weeks with the brill- 
iant California poppy, so bright with 
color as almost to dazzle the eye and 
to be visible many miles away. As the 

mountains are entered we find a va- 
riety of wild flowers that grow no- 
where else, and exhibit tints and fra- 
grance not met with in garden or con- 
servatory. They do not Vjloom early, 
but many may be found during the 
entire season. 

We are at the crossing-over point of 
the mountain ridge, and must course 
along its northern sloj^e, losing sight 
for a few minutes of the enchanting 
vision over which we have been linger- 
ing. The outlook now is all to the 
northward, and a wild wilderness of 
mountain peaks and ranges meets the 
eye. Soon the final station is reached, 
and we leave the car, while the mind, 
already weary with the contemplation 
of preliminary wonders, briefly folds 
its wings and i)ermits the bodily frame 
to partake of the good cheer appropri- 
ate to the place and occasion. 

Standing upon the crest of Mt. Wil- 
son, and looking directly west, you find 
the view intercepted by " The Commo- 
dore," 600 feet higher than your pres- 
ent position. North of this peak, ajid 
across the valley of the Arroyo Seeo, 
are two cone-like peaks — the Big and 
Little Strawberry mountains, the form- 
er standing 7000 feet above sea level, 
the peculiar shape of their summits 
suggesting the nomenclature. Turn- 
ing half round your attention is at- 
tracted by a mountain that differs in 
appearance from all the others. It is 
known as Barley Flats, because, being 
covered with a variety of wild rye, or 
cheat wheat, its general appearance 
resembles that of a barley field. The 
surface is free from rocks and under- 
brush, and, though rolling, has no i)re- 
eipitous slopes, while the umbrageous 
pines scattered over it make it look 
not unlike an immense park. Its dis- 
tance is five miles away, but you are 
separated from it by the valley of the 
north fork of the San Gabriel River, 
and the adventurer who thinks to walk 
over some pleasant morning before 
l)reakfast, will find that he has to de- 
scend a steep mountain side of about 
'2000 feet — vertical distance — and 
scramble up an equally rough path to 
the same altitude on the other side. 



It is a good day's journey to go over 
to Barley Flats. This north fork fur- 
nishes line tishing, as it abounds in 
mountain trout. A half mile east of 
the observatory stands Eclio Hock, 
and from this point can be oljtained 
one of the grandest views the world 
aftbrds. Stretching away easterly for 
eighty miles lies a vast sea of moun- 
tains, distinct in their outlines, and 
covered generally with vast primeval 
forests that have yet to hear the echo 
of the woodman's ax. The first promi- 
nent peak to attract your attention is 
I\It. San Antonio, or "Old Baldy," 
10,000 feet high, and then comes the 
Cueamonga Peaks, of nearly equal al- 
titude, while in the distance lies San 
Bernardino — the base line peak — " Old 
Grayback," 12,000 feet high, and Mt. 
San Jacinto, of a height somewhat less. 
These last two stand on opposite sides 
of San Gorgonio Pass like grim, hoary 
sentinels at the gateway into the para- 
dise of the coast. But these great 
peaks are so distant that Mt. Wilson 
loses nothing of its height by compari- 
son with them. Now we return to the 
contemplation of what the south and 
southwest can reveal — the scenes last 
and brightest of all in the round of the 
horizon. At our feet lies Pasadena, 
already passed in review. Beyond its 
confines the eye falls upon the great 
Raymond Hotel, where hundreds of 
tourists find one of the best of winter 
homes, and to whose hospitable halls 
many of them return year after year, 
so potent are its attractions. South 
Pasadena and Alhambra lie just be- 
yond; Duarte, Glendora and Whittier 
can be seen; while Azusa, Covina, and, 
last and most ambitious in her out- 
reach for distinction, the city of Ra- 
naona, are all within the scope of vis- 
ion. Other young towns might be 
named, but Los Angeles, the queen of 
them all, appears in the southwest, 
while the seaside resorts are discerni- 
ble beyond. 

What is this glory of celestial blue 
that lies gleaming on. the horizon? 
The ocean on which Balboa first looked 
from the Isthmian mountains, and 
which Magellan first traversed 370 

years ago — it is the Pacific that rolls 
before us, and only about tliirty miles 
distant on a straight line. Out in the 
blue deep, some twenty-six miles, can 
l)e seen the island of Santa Catalina. 
Its general appearance, as outlined 
against the sky, is that of a continu- 
ous low mountain, with a depression 
near the center, which almost severs it 
in twain. But, under atmospheric 
conditions favorable to mirage, it will 
assume many grotesque forms. I have 
seen the eastern end, which is really a 
gradual slope, apparently rise in the 
air like a perpendicular cliff 1000 feet 
high, and at times even to overhang 
the sea. Occasionally a portion of the 
ridge will assume the shape of a high 
table of land, upon which appear forms 
resembling castles and towns, with 
pillared colonnades, or rows of im- 
mense columns standing roofless, re- 
minding one of pictures of the ruined 
temples of old, or of the unearthed re- 
mains of Pompeian splendor. San 
Clemente is another island made in- 
teresting by the archaeological treas- 
ures found there. Farther north lies 
the island of Santa Barbara, opposite 
the city of the same name. The surf 
on some portions of the shore-line is 
plainly visible when the light is favor- 
able, as also the shipping, sometimes 
as far as the harbor of Avalon, in Cat- 
alina. Let us round out our day of 
high enjoyment by watching a sunset 
on the Pacific. Word-painting of the 
scene is all too weak — let imagination 
wrestle with it alone. Now the land- 
scape darkens and the shadow creeps 
ever higher up the mountain side, 
while below, from the cities of Los An- 
geles and Pasadena, the electric lights 
flash out until at last, down in the 
broad valley, there seems a constella- 
tion that endeavors to outrival that in 
the heavens above. 

Again, we wake from a most refresh- 
ing sleep to witness a sunrise from the 
summit. We stand on what seems a 
celestial vantage ground; but how- 
changed the scene from yesterday! A 
snow-white sea of fog covers the broad 
valley, leaving only a few hilltops, like 
islands, above the gently shifting un- 

Car Goiiij^'^ up Eaton Canyon. 



(lulations — while above, the sun ])oiirs 
liis full radiance on the wonderful 
feeciness of its dazzling surface. Im- 
agine the effect — it cannot be told. 
When the eyes become weary from its 
contemplation, let us rest them by ex- 
amining the ground about our feet. Its 
most striking characteristic is a re- 
markable unevenness. There is no 
Jerri plateau up here, and scarcely a 
spot can be found large enough to 
spread a blanket Avithovit finding too 
nuich slope to allow one to rest com- 
fortably upon it. K^till it is not desert- 
like, for everywhere there is vegetation, 
varying from the lowly flower to the 
lofty forest tree. But the fog is scat- 
tering, and we can see its remnants 
floating as bright clouds far below^ 

entirely accessible. Nor will it be a 
favorite resort in summer only, \\lien 
the eastern tourist l)ecomes tired of our 
midwinter surroundings of dark-green 
orange groves, spangled o'er with gold- 
en globes — Avhen he wearies of the 
springtime verdure of barley fields and 
alfalfa plot, he can, in two hours' time, 
betake himself to the cold region he 
longs for — he can find a mantle of 
snow covering the rocks of some of the 
remoter slopes, and gathering heavy 
on the cedar branches in some dark 
ravine, and enjoy snowballs, and, per- 
hai)s, a toboggan slide, or skim on the 
flying skates over the frozen surface of 
the artificial basin already planned for 
the delight of such as he. There is 
room for hotel and summer cottage; 

Diacrram of Oradt 

The beauty and grandeur of the scene 
are enhanced by the revelations of our 
second day on the summit, and one 
feels the inspiration that naturally pos- 
sesses those who find themselves ele- 
vated above all their near surround- 

To visit the Pacific Coast and fail to 
ascend Mt. Wilson will, in the future, 
seem as absurd as to go to Egypt and 
not look at the pyramids, or journey 
to Rome and neglect to examine the 
Coliseum or view the Vatican and St. 
Peter's. Mt. Wilson is destined to be- 
come the Mecca of tourists in Southern 
California; it will be sought for sum- 
mer residence by many who prefer the 
highland air to that of the sea shore, 
as soon as the railwav shall make it 

there will soon be extra buildings for 
scientific purposes, Avith numerous other 
attractions. And when one wearies of 
the wind and cold of the summit, he 
has but to step on the car and glide 
down to sup and sleep among the 
roses and orange groves of Pasadena. 

The Mt. Wilson road possesses ad- 
vantages that others do not. Most of 
the mountain railroads already Iniilt 
are in latitudes that render them un- 
available except in the summer. That 
on Mt. Washington has a "season" 
averaging less than three months, 
while the road up Mt. Wilson will be 
serviceable the entire year. The local 
population around ]Mt. Washington is 
small, so that most of its patronage 
must come from distant cities, while 



within one hundred miles of Mt. Wil- 
son live almost half as many people 
as appear in the census of the whole 
State of Xew Hampshire. The Mt. 
Washington road needs endless repair- 
ing on account of the extensive use of 
timber supports in its construction, 
while on the California road nearly 
the entire structure will rest on a foun- 
dation of solid rock. More people al- 
ready visit Mt. Wilson annually, with 
only foot and saddle for conveyance, 
than are accustomed to ascend ]Mt. 
Washington, although a good carriage 
road exists to above the timber-line. 
Owing to our southerly position Mt. 
Wilson is clothed with forests to the 
summit, while for quite a distance be- 
low the crest of Mt. Washington bare 
and barren rocks alone greet the eye. 
During the brief summer season fre- 
quent clouds and rains often disap- 
point the tourist in the outlook he de- 
sires, while on Mt. Wilson, taking the 
whole year, rainy season included, 
probaVjly not more than one day in fif- 
teen would prevent "'full, unclouded 

The nearness of the ocean, with its 
attractive beaches and hotels, gives 
an advantage to Mt. Wilson, with 
which the inland situation of Mt. 
Washington cannot successfully com- 
pare; while the great observatory will 
add a unique attraction to persons of 
scientific tastes who wish to take their 
vacations on this coast. 

A comparison of the real usefulness 
of the roads already built with the 
proposed one is fraught with interest. 
It can readily be seen that the easier 
the grade on a mountain road, the 
more it can do in the way of transport- 
ing supplies of all kinds, especially of 
building materials. The railway on 
Mt. Washington has to overcome an 
altitude of about 3,700 feet in three 
and a half miles — average grade, one 
foot in about five. That on Mt. Rigi 
reaches an elevation of 4,368 feet 
above its starting point in five and one- 
fourth miles of track, being a grade of 

about one foot in seven. On Mt. Pilatus 
an altitude of 5,344 feet is reached with 
somewhat less than three miles of track, 
necessitating the almost unparalleled 
steepness of grade of one foot in a lit- 
tle less than two and a half. The road up 
Mt.^\'ilson will "take it leisurely, "using 
over twelve miles of track in making 
the vertical ascent of about 4,700 feet, 
rendering this railway capable of doing 
a fair transportation business in all 
lines necessary, the grade averaging 
only one foot in over fourteen. Hence, 
a higher speed can be maintained with 
an equal amount of motive power. 
The accompanying diagram will show 
the relative gradient lines of these four 
mountain railroads. 

It is interesting to know that each 
and every one of the roads has yielded 
a large per. cent on its cost, in short, 
has been a paying investment. It is 
believed that Mt. Wilson will pay bet- 
ter than any of the roads mentioned, 
besides exerting a far-reaching influ- 
ence on the immigration to Southern 
California, and on the character of that 
immigration. We are told that fares 
will be lower on the Mt. Wilson road 
than on the others, on account of its 
greater patronage in the fourfold length 
of season. The motive power used will 
probably be electricity, since engines 
of less weight in proportion to their 
tractive force can be employed. The 
road is to be built and equipped in the 
most substantial manner, and furnished 
with every known appliance for safety 
and comfort. And when citizens of 
Lower California conclude to make 
summer homes among the w^hole- 
some pines of the upper heights, they 
can be carried to and fro on commu- 
tation tickets as readily as between 
Pasadena and Los Angeles; while the 
longer time it requires will be more 
than made good by the enjoyable na- 
ture of the trip. The rate of speed, 
though not expected to equal that on 
ordinary railways, can easily be made 
to double or triple that of the steeper 
mountain roads. 


By Ex-Governor Lionel A. Sheldon. 

BUT one third party has ever been 
formed in this counlry, which 
gained control of the government and 
maintained it for any considerable 
period. Others have arisen upon 
local or temporary issues, and have 
disappeared without achieving more 
than local or temporary success. 
That such should be the result is 
philosophical, for it is only under 
extraordinary conditions that more 
than two parties are necessary. When 
particular issues are disposed of par- 
ties need not disband, for new issues 
appear with a continuity that charac- 
terizes the waves of the sea. On new 
questions individuals change from one 
party to another as their convictions 
dictate. In this way, and through 
changes of views, transformation of 
parties often takes place. When there 
are several issues before the country it 
is not infrequent that individuals dif- 
fer with their party upon one or more 
of them, and in such case the proper 
course is to strike a balance and vote 
as in their opinion will best promote 
the general welfare. Party allegiance 
is not regarded by intelligent and inde- 
pendent men as a perpetual obligation. 
Hence, as a rule, evils are remedied 
and reforms are accomplished without 
the interposition of a third party, and 
through changes from one to another. 
Ours is a government founded upon 
and controlled by popular opinion, a 
fact which political leaders fully un- 
derstand, and every party, for the sake 
of success, if from no higher motive, 
will yield to popular demand. It has 
never been difhcult to press one of the 
parties into the support of meritorious 
measures, and it has been found to be 
more practicable to promote the suc- 
cess of a cause inside than outside of the 
party. These recognized truths con- 
stitute serious obstacles to the success 
of the new party movement. 

Another difficulty is encountered at 

the outset. Every man Avhohasanew 
idea that he wishes to propagate or a 
scheme to promote will apply to the 
new party for an indorsement. Those 
of extreme views are the first to be at- 
tracted to it, and if recognized in the 
platform they repel the large class who 
are disposed to proceed through evolu- 
tionary processes, and to " make haste 
slowly." If the extremists are not 
recognized to their satisfaction they 
become a refractory and disturbing ele- 
ment. Americans are generally con- 
servative and are not disposed to at- 
tempt to reach results at a bound. To 
succeed it is necessary for the new 
party to combine several elements 
whose interests are in substantial har- 
mony, and it must avoid disregarding 
the legitimate rights and interests of 
any class. And further, it will be 
necessary to convince the majority of 
the people that the removal of existing 
evils cannot reasonably be expected 
through the action of an existing party. 
At the present time complaints are 
against the money power and of the 
laws which it is alleged sustain and 
give it special advantages. Numerous 
remedies are proposed, which will pass 
through the ordeal of discussion until 
February 22, 1892, when the conven- 
tion of the new party will assemble 
and promulgate its platform. It is 
impracticable to discuss them in de- 
tail in this article. In considering the 
principal ones the inquiry will be as 
to their merits and whether it is prob- 
able that neither of the old parties will 
deal with them in a reasonably satis- 
factor}' manner, and also whether the 
interests of the several elements sought 
to be combined are not so conflicting 
as to prevent harmonious action. 

The activity and energy displayed 
by the advocates of a new party tend 
to impress the public mind with the 
idea that it will achieve success with- 
out serious resistance. It will be un- 



safe to assume that the old party lead- 
ers will be idle. Neither party will re- 
tire from the field without contesting 
the ground inch by inch, and both will 
put themselves in the best possible po- 
sition to command popular support. A 
session of Congress will commence on 
the first Monday of December. Each 
party has a majority in one of the 
branches, and will maneuver not only 
to outgeneral its old-time antagonist, 
but to satisfy the elements which the 
new party promoters are endeavoring 
to combine. It is true that the Demo- 
cratic and the Whig parties were so en- 
vironed as national organizations when 
the Republican party was formed that 
it was impossible to commit either 
to the cause of freedom. It may be 
that the Democratic and the Republican 
parties at the present time are so al- 
lied to the money power that they can- 
not be released from its clutches, but 
it is more probable that one or the 
other of them will be forced by popu- 
lar sentiment to favor measures that 
will afford partial if not complete re- 
lief from present evils. It will be nine 
or ten months before Presidential can- 
didates will be nominated and na- 
tional platforms promulgated. It is 
more than probable that some of the 
measures proposed by the new party 
will be approved by one or both of 
the old parties. 

Complaints of trusts and combina- 
tions formed by capitalists have al- 
ready been heeded. The last Congress 
passed an anti-trust law, and probably 
went to the verge of constitutional au- 
thority. Some of the States have en- 
acted similar laws, and the courts, 
whether there exists special anti-trust 
legislation or not, have uniformly de- 
clared trusts to be contrary to public 
policy and unlawful. Both of the old 
parties appear to be ready to pronounce 
in favor of the absolute suppression of 
trusts of every name and nature. 
Neither has failed to recognize the ex- 
istence of abuses in railroad transport- 
ation, nor to take steps toward their 
mitigation. Congress enacted the in- 
terstate commerce law, which prohib- 
its unjust discrimination and en- 

forces good service. All the States 
have laws of a similar character, and 
which are more or less effective. In 
many of them maximum rates are pre- 
scribed, and in some, commissions are 
empowered to fix them upon local or 
State traffic. Outside of interested par- 
ties, none deny the power of Congress 
to regulate charges in interstate, or of 
the States to do likewise, as to local 
transportation. It is an old and just 
principle of the common law that the 
carrier is entitled to receive a reason- 
able compensation for his services, and 
it is well settled that the national and 
State Governments, within their re- 
spective jurisdictions, may provide the 
mode for determining what is a rea- 
sonable compensation. It will require 
but little pressure to induce either 
party to go to the length of protecting 
the people against exorbitant charges. 
If there is sufficient strength to assure 
the success of the new party, it ought to 
be an easy matter to control the action 
of one, at least, of the old parties, in re- 
gard to railroad transportation. The 
proposition that the Government shall 
own and operate the railroads will 
generally be regarded as extreme. The 
country is not ready for it, though such 
a policy has been successful in other 
nations, and the practicability of plac- 
ing all the roads under one manage- 
ment has been well nigh demonstrated 
by the systemization that has already 
taken place. A deep-seated feeling has 
always existed against enlarging the 
powers of the Government, and oppo- 
sition to the increase of patronage 
which such a policy wOuld involve, has 
become generally prevalent. These 
elements would be joined by bond and 
stockholders, and all others interested 
in railroads, in combating the meas- 
ure with all their powers. If the new 
party platform goes to this extent it 
would be ill-timed and fatal to its suc-^ 
cess. Making the telegraph a part of 
the postal system is not a new idea. 
In 1884 the Senate Committee on Post- 
offices and Postroads reported in fa- 
vor of it, and in its support Senator 
Hill, of Colorado, its Chairman, made 
an unanswerable speech. The pres- 



ent Postmaster-General urged the mat- 
ter upon the last Congress. For many 
years a considerable number of mem- 
bers of Congress have favored the 
measure, and it does not seem that it 
would be difficult to secure its passage 
without the creation of a new party. 

The graduated income tax is evi- 
dently growing in favor, for the Ohio 
State Democratic Convention lately 
declared for it, and there seems to have 
been no opposition in that body. As a 
check upon the further accumulation 
of wealth by the few it has merit, but 
the best feature is that it recognizes 
the benevolent principle that the bur- 
dens of government should, be borne 
by those most able. It is a usual tax 
in other countries, and an income tax 
was imposed in this during the war, and 
was continued for several years there- 
after. The objection that it is inquisi- 
torial lies to all tax laws, and if for that 
reason it should not be imposed, then 
all taxes should be abolished. To favor 
it would add strength to any party. 
There are many evidences that it will 
be adopted, sooner or later, by one of 
the old parties, under the pressure of 
popular demand. 

On the money question the new party 
will be most strongly resisted, and in 
regard to that it is in some danger of 
overstepping itself. That increase of 
the volume of money should keep pace 
with the growth of population and pro- 
duction will hardly be gainsaid, and 
that there has been serious contraction 
when there should have been liberal 
expansion cannot, in truth, be dis- 
puted. Among all classes, except the 
money kings, there is demand for 
more money, provided it is good, but 
nobody wants any that is bad, and 
that is bad which is generally discred- 
ited. There can beno doubt that, as 
the world has been educated, money 
coined from the precious metals is re- 
garded as the best, and few people, if 
any, are disposed to resort to any 
other, provided enough of that can be 
obtained, and all prefer paper money 
which is redeemable in coin. In or- 
der that there may be an enlargement 
of the circulating medium, free silver 

coinage is urged. It is not merely for 
the sake of enhancing the price of sil- 
ver bullion, as some of the mono-met- 
alists affect to believe. Silver is dis- 
credited for monetary uses simply be- 
cause it is measured by gold, which 
has a prescribed and unchangeable 
value by law. Bi-metallists propose 
that the law shall regulate the value 
of silver the same as it does gold. Free 
silver coinage is desired, for the reason 
that it will increase the volume of 
good money. It is not a party ques- 
tion, for it has friends and opponents 
in both parties. The Senate, as now 
constituted, is committed to free coin- 
age, and it is supposed that the House 
of Representatives will favor it by a 
large majority; and it may be confi- 
dently expected that within the next 
eight or ten months a free coinage bill 
will be presented to the President for 
his signature. If he signs it the ques- 
tion will be disposed of, but if he vetoes 
it, and it is not passed over his veto, it 
will be one of the most important is- 
sues of the Presidential campaign. The 
Eastern States are understood to be 
opposed to free coinage, and the States 
east of the Appalachian Mountains and 
north of the Potomac, may be able to 
dictate the platforms of both the old 
parties. In such case a new party, fa- 
voring free coinage, would have great 
strength in the South and West. 

The annual silver production of the 
world is about $120,000,000, nearly 
one-half being in the United States. 
If the uses of silver were enlarged pro- 
duction no doubt would be materially 
increased, and free coinage in a little 
time would probably enhance our cir- 
culating medium $100,000,000 annu- 
ally. Our annual gold production is 
about $33,000,000, but no more than 
$25,000,000 can be calculated upon for 
coinage. It is possible therefore that 
our coin money may be increased 
$125,000,000 each year. As that will 
not be sufficient for several years to 
come on account of the small volume 
of money we now possess, some way 
should be devised to secure a further 
expansion. It was supposed when the 
free national banking law was passed 



that expansion would be ample to 
meet the wants of business through the 
voluntary action of the banks them- 
selves, but the}^ have demonstrated 
that they disregard the public inter- 
ests altogether, as, seemingly by con- 
cert, they have produced contraction 
when it was most hurtful. The people 
have lost faith in them. The new 
party proposes, so far as indications 
go, up to the i^resent time, to provide 
more money by the issue of treasury 
notes. It cannot be expected that 
either of the old parties will declare in 
favor of this proposition. It will be 
strenuously resisted by the money 
power, but it will have a strong sup- 
port in the South and West, and it 
will not be wholly in disfavor in the 
East. If the new party contines its 
financial policy to free coinage of sil- 
ver and the issue of treasury notes, it 
will have great strength in a large 
part of the nation. The proposition 
to loan money at 2 per cent, upon land 
mortgages and pawned imperishable 
agricultural products and to issue cer- 
tificates thereon, which shall pass as 
money, is without precedent in this 
country and results, of similar schemes 
elsewhere have generally been disas- 
trous. It will certainly encounter the 
energetic opposition of capitalists, will 
not be favored by manufacturers who 
are not accorded the same privilege as 
to their products, and the Avage-workers 
and the non -borrowers will receive no 
direct benefit from the measure. It in- 
volves the creation of a vast and exi^en- 
sive machinery, and the utmost confu- 
sion and turmoil may be expected when 
the Government is compelled to resort 
to foreclosures and sales to collect its 
dues. It is necessary for governments 
to be as prompt to collect as to pay. It 
is presumable that every man who owns 
land and is in debt and is paying a 
higher rate of interest than 2 per cent, 
will borrow of the Government, and if 
what is alleged as to the aggregate of 
existing land mortgages is but half 
true, the volume of certificates that 
would be issued would create an infla- 
tion more hurtful than any stringency 
the country has ever experienced. 

When the quantity of certificates that 
would be issued upon cotton, wheat, 
corn and other products is contemplat- 
ed one becomes bewildered. The meas- 
ure has a single merit — that it would 
reduce interest rates, but if there is a 
sufficiency of money interest will be 
brought down through the law of sup- 
ply and demand, and if this does not 
accomplish all that is desired the bal- 
ance can be attained by the enactment 
and rigid enforcement of effective usury 
laws. Upon this question the Farmers' 
Alliance appears to be divided, and it 
is not probable that it will be indorsed 
in the new party jDlatform, though the 
proposition is supported by men of 
ability and influence. 

There are certain economic and com- 
mercial policies which have a direct 
and important bearing upon the money 
and labor questions, and upon which 
the new party cannot avoid expression. 
If we import less and export more the 
balances of trade in our favor will be 
enhanced, and so long as gold is recog- 
nized as the only medium of interna- 
tional exchange, they will be paid in 
that kind of money, which will ma- 
terially add to our circulating medium 
that which all nations pronounce good. 
Our importations will be less if we 
manufacture more, and our exports 
will necessarily be increased if we pos- 
sess ships with which to do our own 
transportation upon the high seas. 
English, German and French ship- 
owners and captains are so many so- 
licitors of trade, and through their ef- 
forts exportations from their respect- 
ive countries are largely increased. We 
are nearly destitute of such agencies, 
because we possess but few ships en- 
gaged in foreign trade. It is estimated 
that we annually pay to foreigners 
$100,000,000 for carrying freight and 
passengers. This immense sum might 
be saved if we had a merchant marine 
sufficient to do our own work, and our 
people might earn something in trans- 
porting for others. We are the great- 
est producing-nation in the world, and 
it is highly important that we should 
have ail the markets we can get, both 
at home and abroad. To enlarge and 



diversif}' our manufacturing industries 
will not only tend to reduce importa- 
tions, but will afford markets at home 
for raw materials and for all classes of 
food articles of domestic production. 
To foster and Iniild up industries, and a 
merchant marine will greatly strength- 
en our money resources and afford 
wider fields for the employment of 
our rapidly increasing working popu- 

Upon these questions there may be 
irreconcilable differences among the 
elements sought to be brought into the 
new party. The effort is to combine 
Democrats and Republicans who here- 
tofore have held antagonistic views; 
farmers of the North and South whose 
education and interests have been un- 
like. The people of the South have 
been schooled for half a century in the 
Calhoun economic theories and have 
never manifested a taste for maritime 
pursuits. The farmers of that section, 
as a whole, produce no surplus of food 
articles, and there has been no incent- 
ive to manufacture, that they may 
have more home people to supply with 
food. American cotton is so superior 
to any produced elsewhere that there 
has been little difficulty in finding a 
market for it, and the Southern peo- 
ple have not manifested by their works, 
except on a limited scale, that they 
realize the great benefit that would re- 
sult to their section by exporting their 
cotton in the fabric rather than in the 

The Northern farmers have been 
taught a different theory, and they rec- 
ognize the value of having domestic 
markets. It is not reasonable to sup- 
pose that the wage- workers will favor 
a policy that fails to give them protec- 
tion against cheap foreign labor, and 
that cannot be done except through 
the recognition of the protective princi- 
ple in tariff legislation. It is highly 
import^it that financial legislation 
should be more liberal; that abuses by 
trusts and in transportation should be 
removed; that communication through 
the telegraph should be cheapened. 

and that revenue laws should be so 
changed as to lighten the burdens of 
the toiler, but these are all overshad- 
owed by the problem of giving em- 
ployment to our laboring people in the 
future at adequate wages, and of sur- 
rounding them with elevating condi- 
tions. Agriculture is overdone, min- 
ing will not materially increase, and 
railroad construction will be less. Un- 
der present conditions we have a sur- 
plus of labor in the nation, and it is des- 
tined to be greater as population in- 
creases. The only means of affording ap- 
preciably larger opportunities for work 
are in manufacturing, and building 
ships and operating them in foreign 
commerce. On these questions the two 
old parties hold opposite views, and 
the new party cannot avoid taking one 
side or the other, for there seems to be 
no medium ground, and, so far as they 
are concerned, a new party does not 
seem necessary, for it will have no ar- 
gument to make against one of the old 
parties. All parties, and the great 
mass of the people, are opposed to the 
importation of cheap labor. The laws 
discourage and restrict it in many 
ways, and they are being rigidly en- 
forced. If further legislation appears 
necessary, there can be no doubt it 
will be enacted without opposition. 

There is, undoubtedly, a great deal 
of dissatisfaction in the country, and 
such times are fruitful of suggestion 
and productive of unusual activity. 
The list of measures already proposed 
is very long, and all of them will be 
supported by earnest and persistent 
advocacy. In condensing and dis- 
carding, the convention, which will 
assemble in February next, will have 
a delicate work to perform. It may 
be restrained from going far enough, 
or it may be pushed to taking extreme 
positions. Danger lies on both sides. 
Its action will be taken in advance of 
that of the other parties, which will 
give them opportunity to concede all 
they think they should, and to take 
advantage of any mistakes that may 
be made. 


Bv David Starr Jordan. 

X the cliffs above Ce- 
dar Creek, a mile or 
two below the famous 
" Natural Bridge " in 
Virginia, is a beau- 
tifully situated but 
unpretending little 
hotel. Over its door 
is the modest sign, " Pine-Laden Inn 
for CoUard." 

This is the resort of the elite of the 
colored population of Virginia when 
they come to visit the grandest scenery 
in the Old Dominion. In this little 
inn are enacted, in a fashion, all the 
various scenes which take place in the 
more pretentious inn " for whites," 
above. The sentiments which move 
society in the lower hotel are little ap- 
preciated by their neighbors. The care- 
fully attired waiter who serves in the 
white-man's hotel is very different from 
the black man who is free among his 
own race to seek his own pleasure. 

The white man has not failed to in- 
terest himself in the negro, and our 
literature is rich in songs of negro life 
which the white man has written for 
him. Some of these are among the 
most charming or most touching of the 
minor poems in our literature. 

They are not, however, the songs or 
poems in vogue at " The Pine-Laden 
Inn for Collard." The society which 
is gathered there has its own songs and 
its own poems. Of these poems, com- 
posed by the negroes themselves, for 
themselves, the genuine folk-songs of 
the black people, ver}- few have ever 
come to the notice of the white people. 
These few are chiefly the religious songs 
which have become familiar to us 
through the pilgrimages of the Teii- 
ne.-seeans and other companies of " -Ju- 
bilee singers." 

In the present paper I wish simply 
to put on record a few fragments of 
genuine negro poems which I have 
gathered in different parts of the South. 

They have little merit or interest from 
any literary standpoint, but they are 
worth preserving because they were 
composed by the negro and for the ne- 
gro. So far as I know none of them 
have been printed, and none of them 
have any " burnt cork"* adulteration. 
The negro minstrel, black or white, is 
an artificial product, and is native to 
no soil. 

First of these is a fragment from 
Eastern Virginia, from one of those 
endless poems sung in the evening at 
the quarters, and to which many im- 
promptu additions are made, as the 
song goes on. In verses of this kind 
usually a single person will sing the 
words of the theme, the others all join- 
ing in the chorus. This gives great 
scope for improvisation, and often the 
results of a happy thought will be ap- 
proved by the others, and so form an 
accretion to the original song. 

A worthless song which is thus fre- 
quently used to build upon, is this: 

I went down to the river and I couldn't 
get across. 
Chorus : Allelu-allay. 

I paid three cents for an old black boss. 

It was lame in one leg and couldn't walk on 


Blind in one eye and couldn't see out of 


massa's promise. 

My old Massa promised me 
That when he died he'd set me free, 

But my old Massa dead and gone 
And still old Sambo's hilling up the corn. 

They took me down to the tater-hill 
And made me dance agin my will, 

They made me dance on sharji-toed stones 
Till all the drivers left and gone. 

* Of " burnt cork " origin is probably the follow- 
ing, also obtained in the South: 
What kind of shoes do the angels wear, 
That they can climb ui> the golden stair, 
And walk all around till they reach the very top, 
Then shake down nickels in the missionary box ? 
Say, angel — meet me at the crossroad, meet me. 
Angel, meet me at the crossroad, meet me; 
Angel, meet me at the crossroad, meet me; 
For I'se gwine to pay no toll. 



Also from Eastern Virginia comes 
this striking account of 


The world was made in six days 
And finished on the seventh; 
But according to the contract 
It slionld' a' been on the 'leventh; 
But the mason lie got drunk, 
And tlie carpenter couldn't work, 
And the cheapest way to do it 
Was to fill it up with dirt. 

A touching fragment is this, ob- 
tained in Jefferson county, in East Ten- 

I hear my children calling; 
I see their warm tears falling, 

And I must go. 
For I was Ijorn in Georgia; 
My children live in Georgia, 

And I must go. 

From the same locality comes the 
following striking picture of true love: 

I said I'd built a cabin, 
I asked her would she come? 

And she flung her arms around me 
Like a grapevine round a gum. 
Chorus : Get along, Joe Clark, etc. 

In Carteret county, in Eastern North 
Carolina, the following is sung in con- 
nection with the parlor games in the 
best society: 


O, round the ring. Miss Julie: 
Round the ring. Miss Julie; 
Round the ring. Miss Julie; 

O, long summer's day. 
The stars shine bright. 
The moon looks light; 
O, look away over yonder 
And see some pretty little colored girl 

And tell her how you love her. 

In the same county of Carteret the 
bovs sing and " pat" the quaint air of 


CtEORGIa rabbit. 
Georgia Rabbit, whoa, whoa! 

Georgia Rabbit, whoa! 
Stole my lover, whoa! whoa! 
Stole my lover. Avhoa! 

Gwine to gitnudder one, whoa, whoa! 

Gwine to git nudder one, whoa! 
Jes' like t'udder one, whoa, Avhoa! 

Jes' like t'udder one, whoa! 

Another song without end, having 
its origin at Beaufort, Xorth Carolina, 
begins with the following verses: 

When I was a little boy 

I lived in Sugartown; 
I climbed up in the sugar tree 

And shook the sugar down. 

Chorus: So get on the mountain train; 
Get on the mountain train; 
Get on the mountain train, 
Until your ankles swell. 

And Captain Alexander, 

He made me wear a ball and chain, 
Until my ankles swell. 
Chorus, etc. 

I may close this series with a frag- 
ment current among the ''poor whites" 
in Rabun county. Georgia, the work 
of a local poet of Rabun Gap: 


A soldier sat by the road one day. 
And he was looking very gay. 
For on his back he'd a bag of meal 
Which he had stolen from an old Tarheel.t 

Bye and by. by and by, 
;Marry a girl with a bright blue eye. 
Georgia girls there's none surpasses. 
For they are fond of sorghum molasses. 

He built him a fire to bake his bread. 
And when he was done he gaily said: 
" Nothing in this world surpasses 
Good cornl^read and sorghum molasses." 

In Alabama they do eat peas; 
In Tennessee just what they please; 
In North Carolina tar and rosin, 
But the Georgia girls eat goobers and sorg- 

As I was going through the Georgia towns, 
The Georgia girls came snooping round. 
Says thev: "Young man, be you a traveler?" 
"No, pretty miss; I'm a goober i grabbler." 

* This line is better omitted. 
T A rative of the Tar State, or North Carolina. 
I Goober, the peanut, commonly accepted as the 
emblem of Georgia. 

Palo Alto, Cal. 


Bv Walter Lindley, M. D. 

H HE title of this pa- 
per is a misnomer. 
California has no 
one climate that 
she can distinct- 
ively call her own. 
The writer, in Au- 
burn, Placer county. Redding, Shasta 
county, in the Strawberr}^ Valley of the 
San Jacinto Mountains, or San Diego 
county, in telling of California's cli- 
mate, will describe the rare atmos- 
phere of from 5,000 to 10,000 feet above 
sea-level, redolent with the fragrance 
of pine forests, where the deer, the an- 
telope, the bear and the California lion 
furnish entertainment for the sports- 
man; where beautiful mountain 
brooks, alive with trout, give the dis- 
ciples of Izaak Walton rare opportu- 
nities, and where the majestic crags 
and chasms and the white-hooded 
peaks, surrounded by wonderful vis- 
tas of villages, cities, rivers and ocean, 
supply an irresistible inspiration for 
the artist and the poet. 

Who Avill acknowledge, though, that 
the climate of these mountains, unsur- 
passed by that of the Swiss Alps, is 
California's climate? 

An American of wealth is estab- 
lishing a sanitarium in the valley of 
the river Jordan, near the Dead Sea. 
He ascertained that a bronchial affec- 
tion was relieved where the baromet- 
ric pressure was great, as it is in this 
valle}' of the Holy Land. This is the 
most marked depression on the face of 
the earth, being 1,200 feet below sea- 
level. This gentleman makes the rea- 
sonable assertion that where atmos- 
pheric pressure is greatest, as in the 
depressions, resi3iration is easiest. 

In the eastern part of San Diego 
county, about one hundred miles from 
Los Angeles, is a depression traversed 
by the Southern Pacific Railroad, 
known to geographers as the San Fe- 
lipe Sink, but commonly called — on 

account of the innumerable shells 
spread over its surface — the Conchilla 
Valley, and now of especial interest, 
because of the new lake forming from 
the overflow of the Colorado. 

The unobserving transcontinental 
traveler over the Southern Pacific Rail- 
road would travel the one hundred 
miles west of Yuma — on the Colorado 
river — without giving a glance out of 
the car window, as he would think he 
was on the Colorado Desert, and wish 
the train would go faster ; yet this very 
spot is one of the most remarkable on 
the face of the globe. 

Dr. J. P. Widney, of Los Angeles, 
while surgeon in the United States 
Army, crossed this region with troops 
twenty-one years ago. He then no- 
ticed surrounding this territory a well- 
defined line along the mountain sides, 
always at the same level. Above that 
line the rocks are sharp and jagged, 
showing that for ages the water had 
stood at that level. He says: " I found 
it to be the old beach of a sea." I find 
nothing else noted of this country un- 
til the surveying party of the South- 
ern Pacific Railroad, in running the 
line from Los Angeles to Yuma, found 
that sea-level was at the point where 
Dr. Widney had noted the ancient 
beach. They then gradually descended 
to the south until they reached a de- 
pression of two hundred and sixty- 
eight feet below sea-level, at a point 
near Salton. 

This basin is about one hundred and 
thirty" miles in length by thirty miles 
in average width. The deepest point 
is about three hundred and sixty feet 
below sea-level. Along the northern 
margin of this basin, right up against 
the mountains, are great nmnbers of 
date palms. These tropical trees are 
indigenous to this valley, and many of 
them reach a height of eighty feet. 
When ripe, a single bunch of fruit 
weighs one hundred pounds. It has a 



taste very similar to the date palm of 
commerce. The tree has large fan- 
leaves, and is the same as can be seen 
in almost every park and yard in the 
towns of Southern California. The 
passenger on the Southern Pacific Rail- 
road, by glancing out of the north side 
of the car at Indio, can see these giant 
sentinels keeping silent vigil over the 
plains beneath them. 

At Salton, on the Southern Pacific 
Railroad, the surface of the earth for 
nearly ten miles square is covered 
with a crust of salt from four inches 
to a foot thick. I stopped there in 
midsummer, before the waters had 
flowed in and formed the present lake, 
and went out on this great white field 
about noon. The mercury indicated 
105° Fahrenheit in the house, but out 
in the sunshine, with the dazzling re- 
flection from the glistening surface 
that extended for miles on each side, 
the temperature was probably 130° 
Fahrenheit. The workmen out in this 
peculiar harvest-field were as cheerful 
as any set of men I ever saw, and there 
was far less exhibition of suffering from 
heat than is to be seen, ordinarily, in 
July, in the wheat fields of the Mis- 
sissippi Valley. The low relative hu- 
midity * explains the total absence of 
sunstroke here. The atmosphere in 
this region, adulterated by the chlo- 
rine gases emanating from the salt 
beds, must be nearly aseptic. There 
are extensive mills here for grinding 
the salt. It is not put through any 
system of purification, but, after grind- 
ing, proves to be excellent for table 
use. Several hundred tons are thus 
prepared every month and shipped 

A few miles east of here are the fa- 
mous mud volcanoes, which are equal 
in wonder to the geysers of this State. 
Owing to the treacherous character of 
the ground around them they have 
never been thoroughly examined. Pro- 
fessor Hanks, the State Mineralogist, 
undertook it, but breaking through 
the crust he was so severely burned 
that he was compelled to abandon his 

* If the lake is permanent, the conditions here 
will be materially changed.— Editor. 

investigations. Here is an extensive, 
almost unexplored field for some ad- 
venturous scientist. 

Indio is the place to stop and make 
headquarters for tours through this 
interesting country. It is the prin- 
cipal station in the valley, and near 
the northern rim of the basin, be- 
ing only twenty feet below sea-level. 
The sandy plains around Indio were 
formerly considered a hopeless, barren 
waste, but the advent of the railroad 
has made great changes. Good Avater 
is supplied by surface wells; but in 
order to have water for irrigation, ar- 
tesian wells have been bored. There 
is one two and three-fourths miles east 
of Indio that is now flowing one thou- 
sand gallons per hour. This flowing 
water was reached at a depth of only 
one hundred and fifteen feet, after bor- 
ing through layers of sand, clay, sand, 
tough blue clay, clay, coarse gravel, 
clay and sand. Oranges and various 
other kinds of fruit are being grown 
here, and melons, tomatoes and ber- 
ries ripen several weeks earlier than 
in Los Angeles and other places 
near the coast. There are in this vi- 
cinity about forty thousand acres of 
excellent land. The visitor here, on 
witnessing the water flowing from the 
artesian wells, the grass growing, the 
melons ripening, and the peach trees 
blooming, can fitly say with Isaiah: 
" The Lord shall comfort all the waste 
places. He will make the desert like 
the garden, and the desert shall rejoice, 
and bloom as the rose. For in the wil- 
derness shall waters break out, and 
streams in the desert. And the parched 
ground shall become a pool, and the 
thirsty land springs of water." 

In this valley live about four hun- 
dred of the Cohuilla Indians. This is 
an interesting tribe. Dr. Stephen 
Bowers, in a paper read before the 
Ventura Countv Societv of Xatural 
History, March 5, 1888,^ said that he 
believed them to be of Aztec origin. 
They are sun and fire worshippers and 
believe in the transmigration of souls, 
and that their departed friends some- 
times enter into coyotes, and thus lin- 
ger about their former habitation. 



They practice cremation. Their i^rin- 
cipal article of food is the mesqnit 
bean, which they triturate in mortars 
of wood or stone, after which the meal 
is sifted and the coarser portion is used 
as food for their horses and cattle, and 
the finer is made into cakes for family- 

The agave, or century plant, which 
is indigenous here, is also much used 
for food. The roots, roasted, taste like 
stewed turnips, while the stem, roasted, 
is said to taste like baked sweet po- 
tatoes. From this plant they also 
make the Mexican beverage, pulque, 
which has about the same alcoholic 
strength as beer. The ethnologist can, 
by gaining their confidence, get much 
interesting information from these 
very peaceable Indians. 

I found at Salton and Indio, at this 
time, asthmatics, rheumatics and con- 
sumptives, all of whom reported won- 
derful recoveries. Some of these sto- 
ries I accepted cum grano satis, which 
phrase is, by the way, especially ap- 
plicable to the salt fields. These 
asthmatics and consumptives claim 
that the farther thej- get below sea- 
level, and the dryer the atmosphere, 
the easier they breathe. The rheumat- 
ics claim that the heat and dryness 
improves the circulation, and thus re- 
lieves them. 

My stay was not long enough to 
make any trustworthy observations, 
but it occurred to me that, aside from 
dryness — mean annual relative humid- 
ity certainly not over twenty-five — and 
equability, there was considerable at- 
mospheric pressure at a point three 
hundred and fifty feet below sea level, 
and that we had here moderately com- 
pressed air on a large scale. In a re- 
cent paper on the use of the pneumatic 
cabinet, the author, from many cases 
in practice, shows that compressed air 
relieves asthmatics and cases of phthi- 
sis. He says the compressed air will 
gradually force its way into every part 
of the lung, in order that the pressure 
may be the same on the inside as on 
the out. While the proportion of oxy- 
gen is of course not increased, yet there 
is an increased quantity in a given 

space, and we really have the oxygen 
treatment here on an extensive scale. 

The physician may say that at from 
two hundred to three hundred and 
sixty feet below sea-level the pressure 
would not be as much as in the cabi- 
net. That is true, but the patient goes 
into the cabinet for, say half an hour, 
three or four times a week, while if he 
is at a point like Salton he is breath- 
ing this moderatelv compressed air all 
the time, day and night. This is simpl y 
on the principle of the pneumatic 
chamber of Tabarie, the first one ever 
employed. This is the method rec- 
ommended by Dr. A. H. Smith.* He 
refers to the therapeutic value of the 
increased amount of oxygen inhaled. 
He says compressed air is useful in 
catarrh of the mucous membrane, in 
acute and subacute inflammation of 
the respiratory mucous membrane, in 
restoring the permeability of air tubes 
occluded by exudation or otherwise, 
in asthma, in pulmonary hemorrhage, 
in pleuritic effusion, in simple ansemia, 
in inveterate cases of psoriasis and 
ichthyosis, and in the various forms 
and stages of phthisis. He does not 
recommend it in pulmonary emphyse- 
ma. Dr. Smith says compressed air 
should be used promptly and perse- 
veringlv on the earliest recognizable 
signs of apical catarrh in those predis- 
posed to chest disease. He also espe- 
cially recommends it as an alterative. 

Of course my deductions are all ten- 
tative, but I hope by calling attention 
to this unique region to gain the as- 
sistance of intelligent observers. 

If a phthisical or asthmatic patient 
of considerable vigor intends coming 
to Southern California his physician 
might be justified (if the inflow from 
the Colorado does not materially effect 
the conditions as they were at my visit) 
in suggesting that — except during the 
summer months — he stop in Indio, and 
from there test the climate of this 
basin. If not suited or benefited, it is 
but two hours' ride by rail to Beau- 
mont, a delightful resort, with excel- 

* Smith, Andrew H.: The Physiological, Patho- 
logical and Therapeutic Effects of Compressed Air. 
Detroit: Geo. S. Davis. 1886. 



lent accommodations, two thousand 
five hundred feet above sea-level; but 
two hours more to the pine forests in 
the San Jacinto mountains, from six 
thousand to ten thousand feet above 
sea-level, or to Riverside, Monrovia, 
Pasadena, Pomona or Whittier, all 
about one thousand feet above the sea; 
or to Los Angeles, three hundred and 
fifty feet above sea-level;* or — to Santa 
Monica, Long Beach, Santa Barbara, 
or San Diego, directly to the coast, and 
but nine hours' ride by rail and boat 
to Catalina Island, twenty-five miles 
out at sea, where a typical ocean atmos- 
phere can be enjoyed. Thus an error 
in location can be quickly corrected. 

To return to the term California cli- 
mate: Here are innumerable friends 
writing from Monterey, Santa Bar- 
bara, Santa Monica, Long Beach and 
San Diego, all at sea-level, with an 
equable, humid atmosphere — delight- 
ful places to live forever. These writ- 
ers think they reallv describe "Cali- 
fornia's climate." They talk of charm- 
ing summers, spring-lij^e winters, sum- 
mer-like springs and June-like au- 
tumns; but San Francisco, Oakland, 
San Rafael, San Jose and Los Ange- 
les will never consent that these places 
really have the " California climate." 
No; the writer from Los Angeles, three 
hundred feet above sea-level, Pasa- 
dena, Riverside and Nordhoff", all about 
one thousand feet above the sea, will 
describe what he believes to be the gen- 
uine California climate. He will tell 
about the ocean breezes being modified 
and mollified by their passage over the 
hills and orange groves; he will point 

* Other Places Below Sea-level.— Sink of the 
Amorsosa (Arroyo del Muerto), in Eastern Cali- 
fornia, two hundred and twenty-flve feet below 
sea-level; the Caspian Sea, eighty-five feet below 
sea-level. Lake Assal, east of Abyssinia in the Afar 
country, eight miles long and four miles wide, is 
about seven hundred and sixty feet below sea-level. 
Its shores are covered with a crust of salt about a 
foot thick. This salt is a source of revenue to the 
Afars, as they carry it by caravans to Abyssina, 
where they find a ready market. There are several 
other depressions about six hundred feet below sea- 
level in this vicinity. The noted oasis, Siwah, in the 
Llbian desert, three hundred miles west of Cairo, 
is one hundred and twenty feet below sea-level. 
Here are beautiful date-palm groves, and here also 
the apricot, the olive, the pomegranate and the vine 
are extensively cultivated. In this same desert is 
the oasis Araj, two hundred and sixty-six feet be- 
low sealevel. There are also numerous other de- 
pressions in the desert portion of Algeria and at va- 
rious points on the Sahara desert. 

out the advantages to the invalid of 
beautiful flower gardens, where the 
rose, the heliotrope and the fuchsia 
blossoin out doors every day in the 
year. He will show the benign influ- 
ence of thousands of acres of beautiful 
groves of orange, lemon, lime, fig, apri- 
cot, nectarine and pomegranate trees. 

He will prove that half the robust- 
looking residents to be seen came to 
California with but one lung; but what 
right have these climate authorities to 
claim that they describe California's 
climate? Evidently, no right at all. 
San Francisco contains one-fourth of 
the population of California and has a 
climate peculiarly its own. A climate, 
in fact, that no other section has evinced 
any disposition to claim; even Oak- 
land — just across the bay — very justly 
points to her freedom from raw breezes 
when compared with the Pacific Coast 
metropolis. Yet there is something 
decidedly invigorating in San Fran- 
cisco's climate. It is a climate that 
grows on -a person. Each trip the 
visitor makes leads him to like it bet- 
ter, but yet none of us will acknowledge 
that it is " California's climate." Not at 
all. Neither will we allow the marvel- 
ous climate of Lake Tahoe or the Yo- 
semite to aggrandize that name. 

Another climate that is being great- 
ly lauded and much sought after is the 
insular climate. Catalina Island, twen- 
ty-five miles out at sea — forty miles 
from Los Angeles — has a climate that 
is the invalid's delight the year round. 
Here is an ocean climate without the 
discomforts of an ocean voyage. Here 
is an island many miles long, sur- 
rounded with remarkably transparent 
water, in the depths of which can be 
seen almost every inhabitant of the sea. 
On the shores of this island are innu- 
merable droves of seg, lions, while on 
the mountains that bisect the land the 
interpid hunter, rifle in hand, makes 
the wild goat bite the dust. The higher 
altitudes of California are but little 
known; yet here we find localities 
w^hich compare in beauty and benefits 
to be gained to many of the famous 
European mountain resorts. 

August 26, 1888. in company with a 



friend, I left Los Angeles for the San 
Jacinto Mountains to see something of 
our higher altitudes. Four hours' ride 
by rail took us to the town of San Ja- 
cinto, where we were met by a patient 
of mine whom I had considered to be 
at death's door from phthisis. He re- 
mained quite close to the coast for a 
year, but lost ground, and suddenly 
determined to go to San Jacinto, where 
he "took up" a piece of government 
land. There was a steady improve- 
ment almost from the first. He has 
this season worked in the hayfield. 
While he is by no means a well man, 
yet the change for the better has been 
wonderful. San Jacinto has an alti- 
tude of about fourteen hundred feet. It 
is too warm for comfort in the sum- 
mer, yet numerous consumptives claim 
they gain most during the hot season. 
Here we hired two horses and a buggy 
for $3.50 per day, and drove ten miles 
to the east, to what is called " the foot 
of the grade," where we sta5'ed over 
night. The accommodations would 
have been fairly good but for the fact 
that the beds were all engaged. The 
consequence was, Ave had to sleep on a 
straw-pile in the barn, but the food 
was good, and, like the straw, was 

At 5 o'clock A. M. the next day we 
started up the grade. The rise is said 
to be about thirty - three feet in a 
hundred. A six-mule team has all it 
can do to haul eight hundred pounds 
up this steep road. The grade is two 
and a half miles long, and it usually 
takes at least three hours for a mule 
team to reach the top. It seemed to be 
the business of ever}- person we met to 
try to frighten us, and we came near 
not attempting to drive up, but finally 
did try, and our little team pulled us up 
in just an hour. AVe gave them a rest 
about exery twenty yards. Once in a 
while, when we dared to take our eyes 
from our horses, we would glance back 
at the magnificent landscape below us. 

When we arrived at the top of the 
grade we found ourselves at an alti- 
tude of five thousand two hundred feet, 
and in the edge of a beautiful forest of 
towering pine and fir. For four and a 

half miles Ave droA'e over a charming 
road aligned by the refreshing green 
trees, enswarded by grasses, bushes, 
and many A'arieties of flowers — the 
rose and A\'ild fuchsia predominat- 
ing. Our horses slaked their parched 
throats and cuoled their dry and 
heated feet in a musical mountain 
stream. The bluebird, the mocking- 
bird and the quail AA'ere omnipresent, 
Avhile the road-runner, with his long 
tail, marched along majestically be- 
fore us, and the gray squirrel ran into 
his hole near the top of the tree. The 
sun rose as AA'e drove, and we felt that 
AA'e AA^ere indeed in the heights. The 
cool, iuAagorating atmosphere, brought 
to us through the pine boughs by a 
gentle breeze, fanned our foreheads and 
filled our lungs. 

A few cabins picturesquely located 
indicated that our morning drive was 
ended. It was 7:30 o'clock when we 
sat down with excellent appetites to a 
rural breakfast of oatmeal mush, bread, 
milk, ham, butter and coffee, all of the 
best quality, in a primitive hotel. 

Here we passed a delightful, dreamy 
day. The place is cidled Strawberry 
Valley. About two hundred persons 
were living here in tents and cabins, 
but they all leave by the middle of 
October. Then the snows begin. Con- 
sumptiA'es and asthmatics are here in 
considerable numbers, and Avhen the 
snows fall they hasten to the A^alley, 
three thousand fiA^e hundred feet lower. 
We made arrangements to go to the 
peak of Mt. San Jacinto, eleven thou- 
sand one hundred feet high, accompa- 
nied by Warner, the guide. Bright 
and early we were up the following 
morning, and soon had our horses 
packed for going up the trail, but alas 
for the propositions of man! Our 
horses began to buck and run around 
in a circle, and soon our aa'cII arranged 
packs were flying in all directions. 
Strange to say, th.s discouraging epi- 
sode evoked expressions of unbounded 
mirth from all of the campers, who had 
gathered to see our brilliant cavalcade 
depart on its adventurous mission. I 
very much feared that such convulsive 
laughter Avould cause a hemorrhage 



from the lungs of some of the valetu- 
dinarians who stood gaping on. How 
sad that would have been! We saw 
that our mistake was in not asking to 
have saddle - horses hitched to the 
buggy at San Jacinto. I would advise 
persons making this trip to insist on 
having saddle-horses, and have sad- 
dles in the buggy to use when Straw- 
berry Valley is reached. 

We soon secured another horse and 
a burro, and were fairly started by 8 
o'clock. It is fifteen miles from Straw- 
berry Valley to the peak. The first 
three miles is through rolling pine 
forests by a mountain stream. Then 
we began to climb, and for an hour we 
were going upward until we reached 
the Tauqwitz Valley, seven thousand 
live hundred feet high. Here again 
were thousands and thousands of acres 
of pine forests, and rich land well wa- 
tered by never - failing mountain 
springs. In the center of this valley 
there is a peat bog. The horses passed 
readily through it, but the burro on 
which, to my regret, I was mounted, 
absolutely refused to take a step in the 
yielding, marshy, grass-covered bog. 
As I sat there whipping, coaxing and 
hallooing all to no purpose, I might 
well have been dubbed, like Don Quix- 
ote de la Mancha, the Knight of the 
Sorrowful Figure. By going a circuit- 
ous route I avoided the swamp, and 
we were soon climbing higher and 
higher. We went until we passed over 
a ridge and into another magnificent 
combination of forest and grassy plain 
called Tamarack Valley. Here we 
Avere nine thousand feet above the level 
of the sea. As we passed through a 
beautiful meadow where the foot of 
man had rarely trod, a deer ran be- 
fore us and was soon hidden in the 
timber. Again, after about four miles 
ride, we began to climb. As we crossed 
the last mountain stream at about 5 
P.M. we filled our canteens and watered 
our horses. At 6 p. m. we reached a 
level plateau ten thousand three 
hundred feet above the level of the 
sea, and only eight hundred feet below 
the peak. Here we were to spend the 
night. Soon we noticed the effect of 

the rarefied air. As I assisted in get- 
ting logs together for a fire, I found 
that walking ten yards exhausted me, 
and gave me the sensation of having 
climbed rapidly two or three fiights of 
stairs. My heart beat at the rate of 
one hundred and eight per minute. 
Our guide was an intelligent young 
law student from Frankfort, Indiana. 
Over two years ago he began having 
hemorrhages of the lungs, and a year 
ago last April, while unable to sit 
up, was brought by a brave sister to 
Southern California. Tenderly and 
anxiously she cared for him in that 
long and tedious journey toward a for- 
lorn hope. He improved from the 
time they reached California, and they 
soon came camping to Strawberry Val- 
ley, where he gained rapidly. In the 
autunni they went down to the town 
of San Jacinto, where the young man 
was able to clerk in the bank. When 
May came they again came to Straw- 
berry Valley, and the brave and inde- 
pendent young sister rented the hotel, 
which she now manages in such a suc- 
cessful manner, while the young man 
acts as guide for parties wishing to 
kill game or explore the mountains. 
Strange to say, his pulse was only sixty 
per minute. He did not seem nearly as 
much distressed as my friend and I. 
Our evening meal was soon prepared, 
and never were fried bacon, potatoes 
and good bread, butter and tea more 
enjoyed. We unrolled our blankets 
and lay down under an immense pine 
tree. The novelty of the situation and 
the peculiar atmosj^here prevented us 
from sleeping very soundly, and dur- 
ing the night we would from time to 
time be startled from our slumbers, 
but the intense stillness and the sight 
of the Pleiades that watched directly 
over our improvised bed would reas- 
sure us, and we would soon be dream- 
ing of bears, deer, mountains and 

At four o'clock in the morning we 
were up. After feeding our horses and 
eating a sandwich we started up the 
last peak. We reached the very top in 
time to witness the sun rise in his 
splendor from beyond the Colorado des- 



ert that lay spead out below us in its 
stupendous barrenness. What is that 
dark, twisting object, about the size 
and apparently traveling at about the 
gait of a snail? It comes nearer, and 
we see that it is a freight train on the 
Southern Pacific Railroad near Indio. 
The guide starts a boulder over the 
eastern slope of the mountain, and we 
hear it bounding through the awful 
chasms below. From this peak the 
ocean can be plainly seen. But space 
will not permit me attempting a de- 
scription of what we saw from this 
wondrous height. On the topmost rock 
is a fruit-jar, with a cover carefully 
fitted with rubber, in which every vis- 
itor is expected to leave his card, with 
address and date of visit. The name 
of Dr. McLean of Riverside alone rep- 
resented the medical profession, and I 
proudly put in mine as the second in 
the list. 

Our trip back to Strawberry Val- 
ley was enlivened l;)y a mountain thun- 
der and hail storm, but the fir trees 
were like umbrellas, and protected us. 

This trip again revealed to me the 
wonderful variety of the Southern Cali- 
fornia climate. If an altitude of four- 
teen hundred feet is needed it is to be 
found at the town and vicinity of San 
Jacinto, while at Strawberry Valley 
there is an atmosphere redolent with 
the fragrance of the pine forests, and 
an altitude of fifty-two hundred feet. 
At Tauqwitz Valley are all these beau- 
tiful surroundings and an altitude of 
seventy-five hundred feet, and at Tam- 
arack Valley we have again the running 
streams, the beautiful meadows, great 
trees and an altitude of nine thousand 

Aside from the value of these ele- 
vated valleys as summer resorts, I be- 
lieve they will become even more sought 
after as winter resorts. 

The Alpine winter cure of pulmonary 
diseases is very popular in Great Brit- 
ain and on the Continent. Thousands 
of consumptives flock to the Davos- 
Platz and Maloja Plateau in the Swiss 
Alps every winter. Immense and well- 
arranged hotels have been constructed 
by rich companies, and wonderful re- 



Maloja, . . 

. 6,000 ft. 


. 4,771 ft. 

Davos, . . 

. 5,105 ft. 


. 4,738 ft. 

suits have been recorded. The follow- 
ing are the altitudes of the chief re- 


Strawberry Valley, 5,200 ft. 
Tauqwitz Valley, 7,500 ft. 
Tamarack Valley, 9,000 ft. 
Wilson's Peak, . 5,600 ft. 

From the illustrations I have seen 
of these Alpine resorts, I judge they 
are naturally barren plateaus, and 
have not the wealth of beautiful pine 
forests that the Southern California 
valleys I have so meagerly described 
contain. The advantages of the pine 
forests are: First, giving a medicated 
air for constant inhalation; second, ad- 
ding beauty and picturesqueness to the 
scenery; third, protecting the valleys 
from winds. An average of about three 
feet of snow covers these valleys in 
winter. In another year they will be 
much more accessible, as an excellent 
road is now in course of construction, 
and I trust that soon capitalists will 
unite, as in SAvitzerland, and provide 
suitable winter accommodations for in- 

An admirable trail has recently been 
built from Pasadena to the summit of 
Wilson's Peak, in the Sierra Madre, 
and a hotel established, so that the 
traveler can make the ascent to an al- 
titude of six thousand feet by slow de- 
grees, and find nearly all the comforts 
of the lowland. 

Is the reader of this paper in need of 
eternal sunshine, everlasting flower 
gardens, never-fading verdure? He can 
find them all in California. Does he 
want rare atmosphere, compressed at- 
mosphere or sea-level atmosphere? He 
can find them all here. Does he want 
humid atmosphere or a dessicated at- 
mosphere? He can find them both 
here. Does he want a climate where 
the ground is covered with snow the 
year round, or d es he want a climate 
where the snow never falls? Either can 
be had in California. " California's 
climate " can never be described, but 
much is yet to be written of "The Cli- 
mates of California." 

* Alpine Winter in Its Medical Aspects. By A. 
Tucker Wise, M. P. London: J. & A. Churchill, 1886. 
f Approximate. 


Bv Jeanne C. Carr. 

H I L E visiting the 
Franciscan Missions 
and old ranches of 
Southern California 
in the winter of 1870, 
I learned that Cora is thje generic name 
for an Indian basket; whether applied 
to one of the richly decorated head 
coverings treasured as heirlooms in the 
families of the natives, or to the vari- 
ous and indispensable vessels of bask- 
etry in domestic use. And it Avas in 
a journey by stage from Los Angeles 
to San Diego, that I found in a family 
of Luiseno Indians the oldest basket- 
maker and the most precious speci- 
men of their handiwork that I have 
ever seen. 

After leaving Santa Ana I was the 
only passenger, and, with a long night's 
ride in prospect, I gladly exchanged 
my inside seat for one on the box, the 
driver having been recommended as 
trustworthy and attentive. He soon 
opened a conversation, as if anticipat- 
ing my questions. 

" Yis, ma^am,; you bet this ere's a 
big ranch; 'bout's big, guess's the State 
o' Varmount. I seen Varmount on 
yer trunk. This ranch uster begin to 
th^ North Pole, 'fore they divided it 
'mongst the heirs; an it run bey ant 
the South Pole sev'ral degrees. Don't 
caount anythin' smaller'n a league 
here. An' I reckon they'd a made the 
ranch bigger, ef there'd been more 

After a long pause a belated squirrel 
glided across the road, and he re- 
sumed : 

"No; they aint a lyin' when th' 
tells ye that rats lives in trees an' 
squirrels in th' graouncl! Truth is, 

ma'am, this' a orful 'commodatin' ken- 
try! Better not write home 'bout it 
till ye cuts yer eye teeth! Better 
b'lieve 'bout half ye hear, cos Injuns 
an' Mormons, K'nacks an' the ol' Dons, 
Jews an'' Chinamen jest runs races 
a-lyin'! Dunno which beats." And 
he laughed immoderately, as if this 
peculiarity had struck him for the first 

By and by he broke out again. "Yis, 
ma'am; Californy's the place to settle 
deaun in! Ef ye aint married ye 
needn't lose no more time; n' ef ye 
be, it's the cheapes' place on the foot- 
stool to raise a fambly. Wimmen out 
here don't think nothin' o' twenty 
children; some goes ez high as thirty 
an' stops caountin'. Natyves ca'ant 
count more'n that." 

"And have you as many?" I que- 

"Na'aw, I'm a bachilter! I went 
back ter the States las' winter to try 
m' luck, an' it didn't pan aout ez I 

" What was the trouble?" I asked. 

" Wall, ma'am, the gal I useter go 
to skule with was thar a-waitin'; but 
she's a perfesser, an' I haint expe- 
renced religion." 

"Was that all? She might have 
converted ?/or(," I suggested. 

Disdaining to notice this, he con- 
tinued : 

" You see, ma'am, in them old States 
the young men don't settle; they 
kinder sags down! Ev'rythin's so big 
here, t'wen ye gits there, your stories 
sounds like lies to yourself w'en yer 
a-tellin' 'em. 

"Wall, I went back, as I said afore, 
an' ev'rv durned word I told 'em was 



true as preachin'. They tuk it all in, 
'til one night, when some of the neigh- 
bors Avuz a-settin' raound the fire, an' 
I told 'em how I found a taller mine — 
an' then they sorter lost confidence in 

" A tallow mine!" I exclaimed. " I 
have often heard of soap rocks, but 
never of a tallow -mine." 

" Wall, I hev, an' found one within 
a mile of Ban Luis Rey." 

Here came a degression in favor of 
the horses, after which my companion 
resumed in explanation of his discov- 

"Ye see, ma'am, what them old pad- 
ders did'nt know 'bout findin' work for 
their subjicks and pervidin' for the 
saints 'n' angels, not to sa}^ thereselves 
wa'n wuth knowin'. They carried on 
all kinds o' bizness. Meat was plenty; 
keepin' an' vittles was to be had at all 
the missions an' ranches, too, jes' hy 
settin' round! The pastures an' hills 
was alive with horses an' cattle; an' 
hides an' taller was their coin. They 
cured an' stacked the hides, dug holes 
in stiff ground an' run the taller into 
'em; it kep' sweet till a ship laid up to 
Capistrano, then that taller turned into 
. gold! They could load up a big ship 
in a single day, they had so many In- 
dians to help." 

" I think I have read something of 
that miracle in Dana's book," I said, 
" but I should like to hear more about 
the wonderful mine." 

" Don't know Dan}^; dessay he wa'nt 
Avuth his keep! One o' them ducks 
alius hangin' round the senoritas, meb- 
be. They aint all dead yet. 

" But my mine! Jes' a lot o' thet 
holy taller,lost'n fergot nobuddy knows 
how many years. I'd tell ye the hull 
story, 'ef there war'nt sech a sight o' 
lying 'bout Californy nowadays," he 
added, in a more serious tone. 

" After one has traveled from Siski- 
you to San Diego, nothing that can be 
said about California seems improb- 
able. Every new country has its un- 
written ' Nights' Entertainments,' I 

" Guess thet's so! Wall, then, one 
night I Avent up into the grass bej^ant 

the mission to stake out my bosses, an' 
when I druv the fust stake it went 
way deawn, like t'was in soft mud. I 
jes' yanked it up; haf o'nt Avaskivered 
with grease! The evening was cool, but 
the day had ben brilin', an'' now mehbe 
ye lin guess how I fonn'' my taller mine. 
'T was a leetle mouldy on top, but the 
heft on't waz hard — a reg'lar bonanzy 
fer a stage driver." 

Soon a delightful sea breeze reached 
us, laden Avith odors of aromatic plants, 
and Ave Avere nearing San Juan Capis- 
trano Mission, where the stage stopped 
for meals and to change horses. The 
tuning of Adolins and sound of many 
voices indicated a festive gathering of 
some importance at the inn, and lest 
at the hour of midnight liA^e Indians 
should prove less agreeable than dead 
ones, I chose to Avait among the ruins 
Avhere so many perished in the earth- 
quake of 1812. During the prcAdous 
Aveek I had visited the AA'reck of Mission 
San Jose, made by the upheaval of 
1869, where the venerable Salvador 
Vallejo Avas my guide. 

The deserted ruins of San Juan Ca- 
pistrano — the latest and costliest of the 
missions! Its broken olive mill and 
crumbling dove-cote and the spacious 
weed-groAvn courts and corridors were 
pathetic Avitnesses to the grandeur of 
the plans and purposes of the founders, 
and also of the rapidity with which 
nature effaces the noblest works of hu- 
man hands. 

All too soon for the permanence of 
these impressions, the stage driA'er's 
whistle recalled me to my seat. There- 
after scA^eral blood-curdling narratives 
of pioneer experience kept me wake- 
ful, and our way lay along the beach 
for several miles, where multitudes cf 
sea lions rolled and tumbled in the 
surf, filling the air Avith their strange 
cries, and Avhen, leaving the shore Ave 
rose upon the moonlit hills, dark mass- 
es of Avild cattle sprang to their feet 
and ran ahead of the stage for long dis- 
tances, until their leader turned aside 
to breathe and rest. 

When their serried ranks were brok- 
en they suddenly disappeared, as if the 
earth had swallowed them up. In what 




seemed to me infinite spaces of sea and 
land this display of abounding and joy- 
ous animal life could not be witnessed 
without emotions of wonder and de- 

Rain had already fallen in the south, 
and the morning light disclosed the be- 
ginning of that marvelous transforma- 
tion from dust to flowers, which is so 
enchanting when seen for the first time. 
Wild ducks started up from the la- 
giiiias, and immense fiocks of sheep 
were already feeding on the hills. From 
afar we heard the sound of bells, and 
soon caught a distant view of the royal 
mission, surrounded with its courts 
and cloisters, crowning a perfect land- 
scape. Emerald waves of grass seemed 
flowing to it, and fields of young grain 
stretched away into the distance. As 
we passed an adobe house near the 
road, the hymn of the sunrise reached 
us with its sweet invitation. Innu- 
merable larks were also astir, and 
pouring out melodious responses to 
the bells. 

And now from a clump of venerable 
pepper trees a smoke curled upward, 
and one approached a long low build- 
ing which served as a wayside inn, a 
postoffice and store. A dilapidated wa- 
ter basin of stone stood before it in a 
round patch of neglected grass; not an 
attractive place, surely, to a hungry 
and weary traveler. Suddenly the 
horses were lashed into a run, and we 
swung twice around the circle, stop- 
ping so suddenly as almost to throw 
me from my seat. Within the inn, to 
my surprise, a bath was profiered, and 
a breakfast quickly served fit to satisfy 
the most fastidious appetite. Excel- 
lent coffee, a generous pitcher of cream, 
frijoles and tortilla.^, broiled chickens, 
rolls and fruit, made us loath to leave 
so delectable a feeding place. 

Giving voice to my satisfaction I was 
told that the cook was a young Indian 
girl whose mother and grandmother 
had served the padre-'< in that capacity, 
in the palmy days of the mission. 

I begged to be introduced to her, and 
with a patronizing little speech in my 
mind and a bright silver piece in my 
hand, followed mv host into the kitch- 

en, and thus I found her, my incom- 
parable Conchita. 

She was making more tortillas for a 
later breakfast, an employment which 
displayed her superb arms and figure 
most perfectly. The single massive 
braid of her black hair fell nearly to 
her feet when she rose to greet me, and 
her large soft eyes lit up with pleas- 
ure when the landlord told her of my 
wish to remain for a few days in order 
to make a leisurely study of the mis- 
sion and to visit Pala and Temecula, 
its former dependencies. My intended 
speech and offering were as much out 
of place as they would have been in the 
court of St. James. 

" You have the keys, Conchita," said 
the landlord, addressing her, "and may 
show the lady the parlor bedroom; at 
present we have no other." Then turn- 
ing to me he briefly explained that the 
landlady being ab.sent on an errand of 
mercy, Conchita was both cook and 
housekeeper. " My wife has taught her 
to read and write in Sj^anish; the rest 
of her education she has picked up, no 
one knows how. She sells goods for 
me to Indians, Spaniards and Yankees, 
and you will be able to understand her 
English, also." 

Blushing at this introduction Con- 
chita led the way through a darkened 
parlor, with a florid carpet and furnish- 
ing, to a little room which seemed filled 
to bursting with an enormous cur- 
tained bed. Excepting a small look- 
ing-glass upon the wall and some 
wooden pegs, there was no furniture 
of any kind. Its single low window 
opened upon a veranda in the rear. 

Already I heard the rumble of the 
stage; there was only a moment for de- 
cision. "I will stay," I said, "if you 
will share this room with me. Other- 
wise, I think I must go on to San 
Diego, and stop here on my return." 

"Stay," Conchita answered; "the 
landlady will come soon, for a baby is 
born to Pilar already. The mistress 
is good; she will make pleasant a place. 
We call her MadrecitaJ' 

Not without misgivings, I decided 
to remain until my interest in the fas- 
cinating story of mission life should 



be satisfied. I relinquished my ticket 
and bade the jocose stage driver fare- 
well. As the vehicle disappeared the 
landlord observed, dryly: " Bill Rum- 
sey's a right peart feller, an' a fust- 
class driver, hut he^s the biggest liar on 
the lineJ^ 

I blushed with vexation, remember- 
ing the free entertainment Bill had 
doul:)tless enjoyed in so verdant a lis- 
tener as myself, and mildly retorted: 

" He's a Yankee, though, and so am 
I. It seems pleasant to meet a coun- 
tryman so far from home." The land- 
lord smiled. " He's a'most anything, 
'cordin' to circumstances. His parents 
is greasers; I've seen 'em. But he's 
lived mostly with some folks from the 
Border States." 

I checked the impulse to inquire if 
Rumsey had never found a tallow 
mine; never had the hairbreadth es- 
capes Avhich it gave me a creepy feeling 
to remember. I resolved not only to be 
deaf, but to be dumb forever more re- 
specting the marvels of the Golden 
State. It comforted me to look toward 
the mission; to know that it was not a 
mirage, and there I spent the morning 
quite alone. 

Not yet, however, in the church, or 
among the surrounding courts and 
cloisters, for, as I passed it to obtain a 
view of the massive and well-preserved 
facade, I saw on the opposite side of 
the road a broken adobe wall, with an 
imposing gateway leading to the mis- 
sion garden. 

Passing through this, a flight of 
twenty or more steps led down to a 
spring, where I found an old Indian 
woman washing clothes under a date 
palm tree — Syria in California. It was 
useless to question her, so, postponing 
my search for information, I proceeded 
to explore the garden as far as it was 
possible to walk among the cactus 
growths which overrun this once beau- 
tiful retreat. 

It was a perfect wilderness of pear, 
olive and pomegranate trees, originally 
enclosed by a fence of the agave, or cen- 
tury plant, whose dead blossom stalks, 
some still green, others silvered by 
age, now rose like sentinels on every 

side. At eventide this must have been 
a lovely and restful seclusion for the 
fathers, whose days were passed in di- 
recting the labors of three thousand 

Returning to the inn for the noon- 
day meal, I found that the hostess had 
returned, bringing with her two In- 
dian girls, Avho wished to trade their 
line needle-work for necessary clothing 
and supplies. 

No Irish lace that I had ever seen 
exceeded this in delicacy, and I took 
the soft brown hands of the makers in 
my own, in an ecstacy of surprise and 

The spiders of Italy are made to 
spin their webs in frames, that artists 
may paint portraits on gossamer to de- 
light the curious; and I would gladly 
find words delicate enough to portray 
Conchita's animated face as she held 
up the lovely work for inspection. 

When dinner was over I made a se- 
rious proposal to the landlady for a 
loan of Conchita for a week or a month, 
in order that she might accompany me 
on my visit to Pala, Santa Isabel and 
other remote Indian villages, and to 
all the southern missions. Taken by 
surprise, she replied at once that noth- 
ing could induce her to part with the 
girl, but as long as I remained at San 
Luis I was welcome to her services. 
The Indians, Maria and Serafina, 
would take her place in the kitchen; 
the house and store she could manage 

Conchita was delighted with this ar- 
rangement, and after siesta we wended 
our way to the church, the alcalde, 
with his huge iron key, accompanying 
us. He was old and bent, but his eye 
was bright, and he had been the only 
cicerone since the abandonment of the 
mission as a residence. He seemed to 
have quite outlived his personal name. 

I was fresh from reading all the de- 
scriptions of these places to be found 
in the libraries of San Francisco, and 
a friend had kindly lent me a copy of 
Father Palou's narrative, in the Span- 
ish language, of the founding of the 
missions. With these precious vol- 
umes I felt that I misfht live in the 



padres' times, take part in their occu- 
pations, and, through sympathy, enter 
into the spirit of their self-denying hi- 

The graves of my kindred had not 
been made in heathen lands, to leave 
me indifferent to this earlier consecra- 

Nothing in our land, unless it be 
the Mission of San Xavier del Bac in 
Arizona, exceeds San Luis Rey in the 
beauty of its site and proportions. It 
woukt seem that the most cherished 
memories of Old Spain had blossomed 
here into a more vigorous and health- 
ful life, under the hands of a devoted 

The walled enclosure contained fifty- 
six acres, six of these being covered by 
the sacred edifice, its arched colon- 
nades and the cloisters, in which the 
fathers lived. The residential part of 
the establishment being thus secluded, 
and the discipline maintained effect- 
ual, they lived, surrounded by three 
thousand baptized savages, without a 

As we entered the building Alcalde 
and Conchita dipped their fingers in a 
consecrated vessel of holy water, and, 
dropping upon their knees, reverently 
made the sign of the cross, and as rev- 
erently, if not with an equal right, 
through adoption into their church, I 
followed their example. All places 
where man has sought the Heavenly 
Father have sacredness for me. 

Some rude benches stood before the 
pulpit, otherwise the place was empty, 
and had not even a picture upon its 
walls. Bej'ond was the chapel and 
altar of St. Louis, the richly gilded 
statue of the saintly king still perfect 
in its place. The high, narrow win- 
dows had many small panes, and were 
curtained with cobwebs. The roof of 
a side chapel had fallen in, defacing a 
large i:)icture of our Lord, with a 
golden nimbus, in the act of Ijlessing 
a crowned and kneeling figure. Here 
the floor was slightly elevated, and 
covered with fine tiles. The main 
building was still in tolerable preser- 

"Conchita," I said, " I shall never 

be satisfied with looking at this place 
in this way. I must study it, piece by 
piece, by claylight and moonlight. Let 
us go up into the tower, where we can 
find seats, and with this small telescope 
we can see the lands where the great 
flocks and herds were pastured, where 
the rodeos were held, and the lines of the 
acequias. To-morrow, perhaps, Ave will 
walk around within the old walls and 
see where the great storehouses were, 
and where the Indian families lived." 
Conchita was translating rapidly, 
with animated gestures, when she sud- 
denly stojiped, and the old man mum- 
bled something which I could not un- 

As the old man searched the dim 
chambers of his memory and brought 
forth the relics of the past my imagi- 
nation reproduced the busy scenes of 
mission building, when tiles were bak- 
ing in the kilns, the adobes being 
molded and laid in long lines to dry 
in the sun, and scores of oxen drag- 
ging in stones for the cloisters and 

On yonder side of the square were 
women carding and spinning wool for 
blankets, or beating grain for bread, or 
in the moist gardens, hoeing the beans, 
squashes and melons. 

He says they lived not in families 
here. At night the men were all locked 
up on one side of the square and the 
women on the opposite side, the chil- 
dren always with the mothers. They 
never ate together. And there were 
soldiers outside who kept watch all 
night, and when an Indian who had 
escaped was brought in he was cruelly 
whipped. The prison and the whip- 
ping place was over there on the south 

"Were there many runaways?" I 

" At first, many. Afterward many 
were willing to be Christians, when 
they no longer feared what the sorcer- 
ess would do. 

"The fathers were always going about 
fearlessly among the wild tribes who 
had never seen a white man, and teach- 
ing them the religion. Only the Ca- 
huillas would never be baptized." 



Conchita's face grew serious, almost 
sad, as she translated the alcalde's 
words, revealing the darker aspects of 
the mission administration. Looking 
out upon the lovely landscape I called 
her attention to the shadows and their 
effect in enhancing the beauty of the 
scene. It was surprising to see how 
her mind took in the significance of 
this lesson, applying it whenever an 
excuse seemed needed for the blessed 
fathers, so idealized in her pure mind. 

On one of these never-to-be-forgot- 
ten days, when strangers were in the 
church, I was writing in my notebook, 
and Conchita, waiting my pleasure, 
was seated on the rim of an old foun- 
tain outside the door. " Do you live 
here?" one of the party asked. " No," 
she replied, " we live no more in San 
Luis. A few of us remain near the 
graves of our people." As the strang- 
ers passed through the building they 
stopped a moment to express their won- 
der at the shameful negligence of the 
authorities, both ecclesiastic and secu- 
lar, in not preventing the destruction 
of so interesting a place. 

Scarcely had they left when Con- 
chita came in, her cheeks burning and 
her eyes full of tears. 

" They do not know dear lady, you 
do not know how terrible it was for us, 
the ruin of the missions and the loss 
of the worship! It was as if the sun 
had forgotten to rise and set when the 
people at morning and evening heard 
not the bells. My grandfather went 
on board the ship with Father Peyri 
and brought back his blessing, all he 
ever had for the work of thirty years! 
But he had rather have only that than 
steal from the mission herds and flocks 
and go into the mountains, as many 
Indians did, while Mr. Bidwell was 

Again she asked: "If some Ameri- 
can, not a Catholic, or a hater of Cath- 
olics, but one well known, who is fair, 
would tell all the truth to the Presi- 
dent, do you not think he would re- 
store the mission and the worship, and 
give the Indians their little farms and 
gardens again?" 

"He could not, dear Conchita. A 

president only has his place and influ- 
ence four years, and that is not long 
enough to tell the sad story to the mil- 
lions who make him the father of the 
people. We can only try to have every 
one who can read understand the wrong 
and how to remedy it, and there are 
many engaged in this work already. 

" Did 3^ou ever think, Conchita, that 
our parents give us names which do 
not fit us when we grow up, and all 
the time we are perhaps making the 
names we shall be known bv here- 

" Do you like my name?" she asked. 

" Very much, because I shall never 
again listen to the murmur of the sea 
in a beautiful shell without thinking 
of you." 

That day, as we were leaving the 
church, I asked where the sacred ves- 
sels were kept, and if those described 
by the earlier writers still belonged to 
the mission. 

" We have been told that the splen- 
did candlesticks, the finest in the coun- 
try, are in San Francisco. And one of 
the bells, the very sweetest of all, went 
there also. Father Ubach brings the 
rich vestments and furniture for the 
altar from San Diego when he cele- 
brates mass here, and Maria, the girl 
you saw at the house, always mends 
the laces for him." 

In the afternoon of the next day, 
wishing for a diversion after these seri- 
ous studies, I proposed that we should 
pay a visit to Conchita's family, the 
madrecita having promised me a ride 
in her wagon. They lived on the San 
Luis Key River, some two miles dis- 
tant. "Now, Concha," I said, "tell 
me their names and ages and I will 
buy a present for each of them at the 
store." Her delight was unbounded, 
and she at once began counting them 
off on her fingers. " My mother, Luisa ; 
my grandmother,Gabriella ;her mother, 
Antonina, and the old Indian woman," 
she added, hesitating over the last, a 
many-syllabled name. 

"Is it possible!" I exclaimed, laugh- 
ing heartily. " Three mothers! and is 
the old Indian woman still another?" 
" No one knows who she is; she 



speaks a different language. My grand- 
father found her drifting about in a 
curious boat near one of the islands 
when he was a young man . He thought 
she came from some place in the north ; 
her otter skin rol^e was so finely trim- 
med, and the basket hat on her head 
was all covered with scarlet feathers. 
There were figures upon it of Avarriors 
and of the chiefs they had killed. 
These had not heads. And she had a 
silver cross hid in her hair of a shape 
different from our holy one. She al- 
ways keeps it near her." 

Later in the day we made our selec- 
tions, Conchita showing much delicacy 
in respect to the cost of her purchases. 
Some small black shawls and pack- 
ages of sweets for the old women, one 
of finer quality and a silk handker- 
chief for her mother, cheap hats and 
toys for the younger ones, was all she 
could be persuaded to accept. I did 
not forget to take along a package of 

" My dear child," I said, drawn more 
and more strongly to her, by an irre- 
sistible attraction; ivhat can I do for 

"Keep me near you," she instantly 
replied. " I would like to live with 
you always." 

For a moment I could not answer. 
I was a New England woman, and on 
the dear old farm an untimely lamb 
was sometimes born in the winter and 
was cherished by the children, who 
kept it in a warm basket of wool by 
the hearthstone. With just such ap- 
pealing eyes this innocent, virginal 
soul was looking into my own. I as- 
sured her that I would never lose sight 
of her; never cease to love and care for 
her. With this she seemed satisfied, 
and the expression of contentment and 
peace remained uj^on her face for many 

Our ride led through the greenest 
pastures to the little rancheria, and 
was a welcome change from the inten- 
sit}^ of interest excited by our studies 
of the mission. But in this nest of 
tule huts we had touched still more 
primitive conditions, and opened up a 
new series. 

Old Antonina, baptized at the second 
mission established by Father Juni- 
23ero, had gone south with him, and at 
San Gabriel her daughter was married. 
Her husband, Gregorio, was majordomo 
at that place when the orange trees 
were planted; palm trees and the vine- 
yards. They were delighted to see one 
who had been there. 

"Oh, indeed, those were wonderful 
days! Did the lady ever see the gar- 
dens, with fences of tuna all around, 
miles and miles of tuna, which a rab- 
bit could not get through? And the 
shaded walks, with seats all along, and 
fountains playing ever}' where? When 
they were taken from San Gabriel to 
l)uild the mission at San Luis, they 
were so homesick they could not work^ 
pining for the mountains. Did the 
lady ever see the Mountain of Bonita,. 
and the holy one, covered with snow? 
There was not one like it in the south ; 
it touched the sky." 

I called Conchita to my side. " We 
must go, now, but I will come again 
before we go to Pala; perhaps this very 
week. But lest something should hap- 
pen, can you take me to see the old 
Indian woman?" 

She at once led the way past a cor- 
ral, where sheep and lambs lay bask- 
ing in the sun, to a hut, over which a 
shelter of brush and poles had lately 
been made. Beneath it sat a creature 
so old and wrinkled that one would 
sooner label her as a dried specimen of 
humanity than classify her among 
living beings. She could not see 
well by daylight, but, hearing Con- 
chita's voice, reached out her small, 
wrinkled hands. 

Conchita gave her a lighted cigarette, 
whereupon she smiled, nodded and 
proved herself a human being. 

I watched her during the consump- 
tion of two other weeds, and then, tak- 
ing care that no matches were left 
about, gave her the package, which 
she hid immediately in the bosom of 
her gown. 

During our ride homeward Conchita 
told me strange stories of this singular 
being; how her memory came and went, 
and how she would sometimes secrete 



herself for days where no one could 
find her. 

Returning to the mother lodge, I m- 
quired if the basket worn by the In- 
dian w^oman when she w^as found, had 
l)een preserved. They assured nie that 
it was in perfect preservation, but they 
had been unable to find it for more 
than a year. They were afraid it had 
been stolen, and they dared not speak 
about it, for it had been blessed by 
Father Peyri, and no one who had it 
^vould give it up. Luisa said she had 
prayed and prayed, but the saints paid 
no attention, and they were too poor 
to make costl}' offerings. She feared 
that the Blessed Cora was lost to them 

Stifling as best I could the shadow 
of a suspicion that this story had been 
made up for the occasion, we started 
for home, where a fresh surprise 
awaited us. 

We had arrived in California when 
the Spanish influence was rapidly wan- 
ing in the north, but the southern at- 
mosphere was still filled with its cus- 
toms and traditions. The Spanish and 
Mexican ladies deserved the lavish 
praise bestow^ed upon them by every 
traveler, and were iDright examples to 
their Indian servantsof gracious man- 
ners, and devotion to their domestic 
and religious duties. With many hon- 
orable exceptions the code of morals 
Avas low^er in the masterful sex, and had 
no punishment for the betrayal of an 
Indian girl, a fact which accounts for 
the almost fabulous number of their 
children at the period of American oc- 
cupation. Adopted daughters were 
not rare in the households of the gen- 
erous senoras. 

Returning to the inn, a new phase 
of southern life had presented itself, 
in a view of the rahallero in all his 
glory, attired in the colors of the rain- 
bow. Under a dove-colored sombrero, 
richly trimmed with silver lace, an 
embroidered handkerchief of gay silk 
protected his neck from the sun. His 
ruffled shirt was relieved against a 
blue velvet vest, with silver buttons, 
over which he wore a bright green vel- 
vet jacket, profusely trimmed with 

gold lace. Green velvet leggings 
reached down to the shoes, and were 
thickly sown with silver buttons on 
the outer seams. His saddle and bridle 
were in keeping -with this fantastic but 
magnificent costume. In short, this 
handsome youth, from head to foot, 
and the spirited animal he rode, from 
its head to its tail, were unconscious 
expressions of the rich and joyous life 
of the land. He seemed hardly more 
responsible for his actions than a green 
and silver butterfly fluttering in the 

All this magnificence was lost upon 
Conchita, who went directly to our 
room, where I found her kneeling by 
the V)ed, with her rosary in her hands. 
Not knowing what to say, I was in- 
spired to say nothing, and, softly clos- 
ing the door, I sought the wodrrrita 
for an explanation. 

" I have been expecting you," she 
said, "and if you had not come I should 
have sent for you. I would not let 
you have Conchita, except for a tem- 
porary companion, until I had seen 
more of you. She is truly a good and 
self-respecting girl, perfectly faithful 
to her family and her religion. I do 
not know how to get along without 
her, and yet I know this is no place 
for her. These Indians have no 
rights, the girls no protection, and the 
young ranchers and sons of the great 
proprietors think it no sin to trifle 
with them. Conchita has behaved with 
the greatest reserve in my house, and 
every one respects her. But we are 
likely to sell out at any time, and then 
I fear she would not be willing to leave 
San Luis Rey, and would sink into the 
dreadful poverty of the others. They 
sav there is a charm in the possession 
of her family, and I hope to goodness 
it will keep her from the misfortunes 
of her race." 

" But about this gay cavalier?" I in- 

" He is no better and no worse than 
the others. Just for this emergency, 
suppose you and Conchita set off for 
Pala early in the morning. The young 
man will play cards till midnight, and 
is not an earlv riser." 



"I will think of it," I said, oppressed 
by a sense of ni}- new responsibility. 
I went softly back to my room, to find 
Conchita still where I left her, her face 
wet with tears. 

" Oh, my dear girl, if you are not 
sick, come outside and see how beau- 
tiful the night is! Let us find Alcalde 
or his daughter and get the key, and 
have one little hour in the church, un- 
der this moonlight. We may go to 
Pala to-morrow, and never have an- 
other chance." 

She accepted this proposal with- 
out eagerness, as if nothing, even the 
^ladonna, could change the fate which 
overhung her race. Xevertheless, after 
a few moments of hesitation she cov- 
ered her head with a black shawl, and 
we started for the adobe hut, where the 
old man was already fast asleep. He 
grumbled a little at being called into 
service at so unusual an hour, but was 
easily pacified with tobacco; while we 
took a last look at the court, so beau- 
tiful, even in its ruins, and the cell 
where Father Peyri wept and prayed 
for his deserted flock. I left Conchita 
there and ^vent inside, seating myself 
upon one of the benches. An owl that 
was flying about, finally perched upon 
the statue of St. Louis; and at that 
moment I fancied I saw something in 
human shape creeping along the wall 
behind the aitar. I rose up quickly, 
saying to myself: '' This is all super- 
stition, of coarse." But as the form 
became more defined, I saAv that it was 
that of a small woman, who was hold- 
ing up something in her hand. I 
could hear my own heart beat, and a 
little bird, which had built its nest un- 
der the roof, chirped and fluttered over- 

As she drew nearer I heard the words 
•' Cora, Cora," which for an instant I 
took to be a woman's name, and then 
I recognized the old Indian. 

I had sense enough left to speak to 
her softly and take her gently by the 
arm, otherwise she would have run 
away, leaving the mystery forever un- 

During our visit to Conchita's familv 
she had overheard the conversation 

about the loss of the Cora, which un- 
der the influence of her ancient super- 
stitions she had hidden away in Father 
Zalvidea's grave. This was on the 
right side of the altar and covered with 
square tiles. 

As she was in the habit of straying 
off. sometimes disappearing for days, 
nothing was thought of her absences, 
and with the ancient cunning of her 
race she had been able to do this work 
unobserved. The Cora had been care- 
fully packed in a box of dry leaves. 
The consecrated earth which she had 
removed to make room for it she had 
hidden elsewhere in the ruins. 

Conchita's interest in this strange 
occurrence was now so absorbing that, 
forgetting the annoyances of the day, 
she seemed another creature. She elo- 
quently described to me the tender pa- 
tience with which this woman had 
ministered to Father Zalvidea in his 
infirmity. She made the acorn por- 
ridge for him fresh every day. for he 
thought the long life of the oak tree was 
transmitted through the acorn meal, 
and believed that was the reason why 
some of the Indians live to such a great 

Well jirovided and mounted we start- 
ed on our journey to Pala at an early 
hour, and yielding to my suggestion 
the cnra was worn by Conchita in In- 
dian fashion, though partially con- 
cealed under the ample mantilla. 

The many crossings of the San Luis 
Rey River were as many leaves in the 
poem of that delightful southern land. 
We lunched in one of the canyons, un- 
der a sycamore tree of magnificient pro- 
portions, leaving our gentle animals to 
stand in the cool stream or to feed upon 
the sweet wild grasses as they pleased. 
I said to Conchita. "There never was a 
better time for me to hear the story of 
the Blessed Cora, and I am going no 
further until it is told." 

Conchita began, but oh, how tame 
the story will sound without the sweet 
voice and the glowing face with its 
background of leaves! 

" It was made by the mother of An- 
tonina, more than a hundred years ago, 
she thinks: she is a northern Indian, 



and they had the finest baskets and 
patterns. I do not know if that is 
true; the rest is." 


'' Father Peyri had been sent for in 
haste to go to Pala, where an Indian 
chief was dying. He had been sick, 
the good father, but taking with him a 
flask of wine and the viaticum and leav- 
ing an order for my grandparents to 
follow him, he reached the Pala mis- 
sion in time to comfort the departing 
soul. When all was over he started to 
return. There was a very bad place 
in the road where torrents of the pre- 
vious winter had washed out some large 
trees. When he reached this spot a 
large and fierce mountain lion sprung 
upon his horse and all three were strug- 
gling in confusion on the ground. 

" The father tried in vain to regain 
his feet, only to find his body pierced 
with excruciating pain. He would 
have given his life to save the poor 
creature that had served him so faith- 
fully, and he cried to God for Jesus' 
sake to spare the innocent beast. Like 
St. Francis, the dear father loved the 
animals. He called the sun his mother 
and the moon his sister." 

" Oh," I interrupted, " 8t. Francis is 
my saint of saints." 

" Senora, there never tra-s- a f^aint more 
holy than Father Peyri! 

" My grandmother did not receive 
the father's order to follow him until 
a late hour, and then there was no 
horse or mvile to ride, so she started on 
foot. She was wise from a young child, 
and could see things to which others 
were blind. Voices from the spirit 
land directed her steps and made her 
helpful to all. She walked so fast that 
she was out of breath and the drops of 
sweat fell from her face, but still she 
toiled on for twenty long miles, until 
by the roadside she found the good 
father lying prone upon the earth. She 
ran to him and threvv herself with cries 
upon his body, for she thought he was 
dead. She kissed his hands, they were 

not cold, and then she held them with- 
in her own, praying to the Holy Vir- 
gin to save him. Faint as a sigh came 
from his pale lips the words, ' Agua! 
Agua!' and the poor creature sprang 
to her feet. 

" There was not a manadero or a drop 
of water within reach; it was far below 
this, where the river crossed the road. 
But she did not hesitate. She pulled 
ofi' her jacket of rabbit skin and put it 
under his head and ran down the trail 
as fast as she could. The road seemed 
to grow longer, and as she stopped a mo- 
ment to recover her breath, she heard 
crunching sounds and stopped quite 
still; it was the lion and his mate de- 
vouring their yet warm victim. 

"The thickets were very dense below 
her. but she kept on, more cautiously. 
Now she heard the drip of water from 
a little rivulet falling on the rocks near 
by, and reaching it, she fell down, ex- 

'' A short rest and a copious draught 
restored her strength, and filling her 
basket cap with water she retraced her 
steps, feeling in her soul an assurance 
that she would find the dear father yet 
alive. How carefully she put the pre- 
cious cup to his lips, so that not a drop 
was spilled! And the Avater revived 
him so that he could speak and tell 
my grandmother where to find the wa- 
fers and wine. 

" That is how it all happened that 
Father Peyri blessed the Indian basket, 
and that it is verv precious to my 

More than twenty years have passed 
since these happenings. I wonder if 
the sycamore tree has been cut down ; 
if since the hills are stripped of their 
timber, the stream is quite dry in the 
early summer; if the basket is in some 
curio collection. But this I know, to 
my great sorrow : there is a cross of 
white marble in a certain Catholic 
cemetery inscribed only with the text, 
" Blessed are the pure in heart." It 
marks the grave of my Conchita. 


Bv Theodore S. Van Dyke. 

RIGHT days were those 
when the breeze came 
fresh and fair from off 
the tumbling sea, tem- 
pering the sunshine that 
streamed u ]3 o n the 
dreamy hills of summer 
in the southern part of California, and 
making a day among them at that 
time of the year when the deer are at 
their best a pleasure instead of toil. 
But scarcely less pleasant, though not 
so certain for success, were those win- 
ter days after abundant rains had 
washed the land and the sun fell with 
milder beam from a bluer sky. 

For nearly a mile we had followed 
the trail of a large deer from where he 
had stopped feeding in the morning, 
to the top of a ridge, on the other side 
of which the land fell away to the dis- 
tant sea in long, undulating lines of 
green and gray, red, brown and blue, 
all bathed in the soft light of the west- 
ering sun. 

And what better place for a well- 
bred deer to doze away the mild hours 
of a midwinter day than the jjotrero 
into which we now looked down — one 
of the little mountain gardens, guarded 
on three sides by a ring of majestic live- 
oaks, and opening on its lower side to- 
ward the great watery plain that shim- 
mered along the western horizon and 
then, falling away into a deep canj'on 
with miles of winding timber in its 
bottom? And what better time for 
such a deer to rise from his long nap 
than just as the sinking sun was bridg- 
ing with golden sheen the vast expanse 
of water on the west? 

As I was aljout to remark to my 
companion that deer have a provoking 
habit of ignoring the fine places you 
find for them to spend the day in, and 
prefer to make their own selections, 
there was a sudden roar of wings from 
the shining green of a bush of hetero- 
meles down in a little grassy flat in 

the potrero, and dozens of lines of 
whizzing, wheeling and squealing blue 
started out of it for as many differ- 
ent points of the compass. But the 
flock of quails thus disturbed flew to 
such a short distance and showed so 
little fear of the bush that it was evi- 
dent their alarm was precaution- 
ary, rather than genuine. In a mo- 
ment more there was a faint motion of 
the scarlet berries that hung in dense, 
shining clusters everywhere amid the 
glistening green of the spreading bush, 
followed by a light gleam of something 
smooth along its outer edge. Faint 
and short it was, but very much like 
the play of light that sometimes comes 
from the polished horns of a deer. 

Soon there was a second glimmer, a 
trifle broader than before, but with a 
softer play of light, such as some-, 
times comes from glossy hair under 
the softened beams of the setting sun. 
And then the canopy of green above it 
stirred again with a movement, faint, 
indeed, but still much stronger than 
could be made by any bird among the 
branches, or the gentle breeze that was 
playing across the land from the peace- 
ful sea far away below. 

Suddenly, along the outer edge of 
the bush, where its nodding clusters.of 
crimson seemed to merge into the golden 
glow of the violets that were beginning 
to light up the green carpet of the slope 
beyond, there was a slight glitter 
from something harder than hair, and 
this in a moment was followed by an- 
other, and that at once by another, and 
still another, until into full view caixie 
a pair of branching antlers. Behind 
them came slowly into sight a pair of 
broad, gray ears, and in front of the 
horns, framed in light gray, was a 
broad, black forehead, running down 
into a fine tapering nose of almost jet 
black. Then followed a neck thick 
and proudly erect as that of the war- 
horse of poetry, expanding into a 



plump, thick-set l)0(ly in dark, glossy 

All this as it appeared through a. 
strong glass. The deer was not near 
enough for those who know the decep- 
tive nature of a long shot at game, es- 
pecially down hill and over an un- 
known distance, and I and my com- 
panion knew that the picture would be 
different through the sights of a hunt- 
ing rilie, and with the sun shining full 
onto them. Still something must be 
done quickly, for the sun was fast 
flooding the deep canyon far below 
with rosy mist, through which the 
winding lines of sycamore, cotton- 
wood, willow and alder that marked 
the watercourses at the bottoms of the 
ravines between the soaring hills were 
fading fast from sight, and the light 
green of the lilac, manzanita and other 
bushes that robed in dense chaparral 
thousands of acres of the hills below, 
was changing rapidly into blue. 

Having completed his getting up 
from his midday nap our deer pricked 
up his ears, struck a majestic attitude 
and with an air of great wisdom sur- 
veyed the landscape around, then giv- 
ing his stubby, little black tail a com- 
placent wiggle, as if sure no dan- 
ger lurked on land or sea, he bent 
down his head and began to nibble 
some of the lucern that was casting a 
yellow tinge over the grayish green of 
the chemisal. Then, suddenly, he 
turned about, and through the tall, 
gray stalks of the white sage, over 
which the trailing vetch was climbing 
in a chain of carmine, purple and 
green, he started off on a slow walk. 

We had decided that, long as the dis- 
tance was, it would be better to risk 
a shot at the game than to take the 
chances of approaching nearer. To 
approach the deer directly within range 
of his eyes would have been out of the 
question, and the making of a detour 
among the rocks and brush of the sur- 
rounding hills was even more uncer- 
tain, especially when the course he 
would take was not yet determined. 
In the mean while the haze that was 
flooding the valleys below was fast 
turning into a deeper shade of crim- 

son, and the sinking sun would soon 
play too nmch in the sights of the rifle 
when pointed down hill toward it. We 
therefore decided to try a shot from 
where we were. 

But to do this it was necessary to 
consult the deer's convenience. For 
anything like a certain shot at such a 
distance the target should be perfectly 
still, and standing still was exactly 
what the target would not do, for 
about the time I had gauged the dis- 
tance and adjusted the sights for it, 
the deer moved behind the bright green 
curtain of a large sumach. Behind 
this he stood out of sight for a mo- 
ment, but moving some of the branches 
in a way that showed he was nibbling 
some of the twigs from it, and then he 
moved slowly out and across a bit of 
open ground, carpeted with tall bunch- 
grass, and then under the dense can- 
opy of a huge liveoak. Here he stood 
for a while in shade so deep that he 
would have made too indistinct a mark 
for even a much shorter distance. He 
scratched one ear with his hind foot, 
reached up and nibbled some of the 
leaves from the lower limbs on the outer 
edge, and then went on to the next 
tree, where he bent his nose to the 
ground, as if looking for acorns. All 
this was giving but little opportunity 
for a shot, and all the time he was go- 
ing farther away. But a few hundred 
feet farther on, the lilac, manzanita 
and shrub liveoak formed a dense 
chaparral along the hillside, in which 
he would be lost to sight, and even on 
the more open ground the orange floss 
of the dodder, twining in such masses 
over the tall buckwheat and lucern, 
was almost enough in itself to hide the 
buck unless the sunlight played just 
right upon his coat. 

After spending a few minutes under 
another tree and keeping us in great 
suspense, the deer started toward the 
point of a long ridge on one side. Soon 
nothing was in view but the glitter- 
ing points of his horns rising and 
sinking among the brush as he Avalked 
along nipping a bunch of leaves here 
and there, and presently a larger mass 
of dark green chaparral closed over 


him, leaving the world around us very 
lonely. Toward the coast we could see 
the wild geese in long, dark lines high 
in the sky, winging their clamorous 
way above the bright green plains, and 
through miles of air fell the weird, pen- 
etrating g-r-r-r-o-o-o of sandhill cranes 
circling in long crescent lines far in 
the zenith. From the basin below us 
the clear call of the quail ran along the 
hillsides, and we could see quails trot- 
ting here and there in dark blue lines 
among the openings or covering the 
greensward in dark bunches where they 
ran together. But still the world seemed 
lonesome without a sight of that buck, 
and the prospects of never seeing him 
again began to grow alarming. 

The whippoorwill, a soft grey fluff of 
delicate feathers, was pitching in the 
air around us with soft, plaintive mew, 
view, mew; the great islands of Santa 
Catalina and San Clemente were fast 
growing darker, while the broad stream 
of radiance that flowed landward from 
the horizon was rapidly brightening, 
and our only prospect for even an- 
other sight of the game was to reach 
at once that part of the ridge toward 
which it was moving. 

We went as fast as the granite bould- 
ers that studded the ridge and the long 
outstretched red arms of themanzanita 
would permit, startling from the wild 
cherry the brown thrush and cutting 
short the tide of song he was pouring 
forth over what is here the opening of 
spring instead of the coming of winter, 
and sending the little blue hare of the 
hills scurrying with rapid foot and 
flickering white tail among the bunches 
of maidenhair or gold fern that were 
springing up between the rocks. 

Before going far we looked over the 
ridge into the place where we had last 
seen our game. But there Avas little 
sign of life except the bluish line that 
through the deepening crimson of the 
air below marked the arrowy flight of 
the turtle dove, the twittering that 
came from the ruby throat of the lin- 
net, or the joyous flow of life from the 
golden breast of the meadowlark. De- 
spair was about to master us when my 
eye suddenly caught a bit of sheen that 

changed too quickly to be explained 
by any change in the position of the 
sun. Nor was it from the smooth leaves 
of the evergreen yerha santa nor from 
the showy wild gooseberry, that was 
getting ready to blow its crimson 
trumpets in the spring, for in a mo- 
ment it shone again, and the gleam 
thereof was broader and brighter than 
before, unmistakably from hair. And 
beside it from the perennial green of 
the shrub liveoak came surging up a 
dozen glittering points and the big ears 
and the fine dark nose were again 
pointed for a moment at the different 
points of the compass and then again 
disappeared from sight into where the 
acorns were still clinging on the lower 
branches. The game was nearer the 
point of the ridge than before and again 
we sped along. Before us the chapar- 
ral cock broke into reluctant flight and 
sailed across the next ravine with long, 
fanlike tail outspread; the ground rob- 
in checked his bubbling spring of self- 
satisfaction and fled silent to the thick 
cover of the ceanothus; the sparrow 
flew chirping from his nest among the 
springing poppies, and the wee little 
wren left his new house that he was 
building in the fragrant green wealth 
of the black sage, and soon we reached 
a point that afforded another good view 
into the potrero. 

But not a beam of light was there 
from anything save the orange glow of 
the mimulus where its bright corolla 
hung out from among the chinks in 
the piles of granite ; not a glitter from 
anything save the white, fleshy leaves 
of the cotyledon, the toughest of the 
stonecrop family, that was living in 
luxur}^ upon the hardest and driest 
tables of granite. So we hastened along, 
for the hum of the bee was already dy- 
ing out along the chaparral, and from 
the dome of heaven in long and grace- 
ful curves, the condor was winding 
down to earth to roost. 

Suddenly I saw where the fern-like 
leaves and pink Vjlossoms of the alfil- 
eria had just been bent to earth be- 
neath a fine-i)ointed hoof, and before I 
could beckon to my comrade there was 
a heavy hvmj). hump, bump, hump, upon 


the ground in the lirush ahead of us. 
Each sprung at once into position, to 
look over the wealth of green by which 
we Avere surrounded, and I reached the 
top of a flat boulder just in time to see 
a whirl of gray some seventy yards 
ahead vanish in the green at the crack 
of my companion's rifle, and another 
close" beside it, cleayn a shining curve, 
the broad, scarlet top of a low photinia 
that, filled the space between two bould- 
ers. Then, at an angle to its former 
course, the first gray rose again on high 
as another humj> resounded from the 
ground, and as the mellow light of the 
sinking sun played full upon its side 
we saw, for a second, against the dis- 
tant background of sky, the clear-cut 
outlines of a two-year-old buck. Bang! 
went both rifles almost at once and too 
hastily aimed. W-h-e-e-e-o-o-ovcent the 
lead, 'singing away on high as it 
glanced from the smooth surface of the 
granite boulders around the path of the 
deer, and the game descended into the 
chaparral with a heavy bump that in- 
dicated sound legs and a still healthy 
anatomy above them. As it disap- 
peared the other one rose again on an- 
other tack, this time under the differ- 
ent play of light on its coat, dark and 
glossy as the curve of a porpoise tumb- 
ling through the waves, and just as it 
cleared the top of an ambitious young 
wild currant, bang! went my compan- 
ion's rifle again, and the gray descend- 
ed with a heavy crash of brush, instead 
of the clear hump we had heard before. 
Little time was there for thought, for 
the rapid dicJc, dick, of our repeating 
rifles, as the empty shells flew hot and 
whizzing in curves above our heads 
from the speed of the ejectors, was not 
so quick as the surging again above 
the brush of the other deer. Up he 
came with all four feet grouped be- 
neath, ready to strike the ground like 
springs of steel at his descent and throw 
him again aloft as lightly as a sun- 
beam glancing from a wave. Bang! 
with both rifles almost together, but as 
the beamy pelt sank into the brush 
there came back the firmest of thumps 
from the hard ground and up came the 
gray again before our quickest motions 

could work the rapid mechanism of our 
repeaters. There was something about 
the firmness of the hump that followed 
its descent this time into the brush 
that fell heavily on our hearts. But, 
just as our rifles were reloaded and 
ready, the shining fur. surmounted by 
small horns and large ears, pointed sky- 
ward, loomed up again more symmetri- 
cal than before in clear outline against 
the glistening side of a great boulder 
of smooth granite. From this the lead 
flew in hissing flakes around the deer, 
causing it to wheel like a flash and dart 
off" almost at right angles to its former 
course, and at a pace more rapid than 
before. As a boulder parting from its 
anchorage of ages on some steep hill- 
side in full headway bounds in whiz- 
zing curves through the brush as well 
as over it, so went this deer at first 
down the slope on the east. As my 
companion's rifle rang out he changed 
his course again with sudden whirl, 
and no longer with high and swinging 
bounds, but hugging the ground like a 
racer, as this bounding deer can do 
when he tries, he clove the densest 
green of the chaparral almost as easily 
as a cannon shot. Dark with speed 
the game passed the first two openings 
in the brush before either rifle was 
ready. In a second more it was lost 
behind the light green of a lilac and 
then glimmered for an instant in the 
opening between that and the brilliant 
red berries of a large heteromeles. It 
was a desperate chance, but the only 
one left, and dropping the line of the 
rifle sights into the blending colors of 
the heteromeles full eight feet ahead of 
the rushing line of fur I pulled the 

Was it fancy, or was there in the 
crack of brush that followed something 
different from that made by a healthy 
deer as he merely touches it in 
swift career? A heavier crash of brush 
that soon followed gave the answer. 
AVe took the trail, and in a few yards 
the hoofprints showed signs of unstead- 
iness; in a few more they became 
wilder and more plunging, and in a 
few more we found our deer lying heels 
upward and head foremost in a bush. 



But what of our buck? We had 
now as much game as any mortal 
.should want. But we had come a long 
Avay for this hunt,. the season was about 
over, and it would be months before 
we would have another hunt. So we 
thought we would at least take a look 
and see if the shooting had scared 
him, although in those days deer were 
so tame that they were not easily 
alarmed by shooting, especially when 
the conformation of the hills made it 
impossible for them to tell where the 
noise came from. 

Looking over the ridge into the main 
basin Avhere we had last seen our deer 
we saw nothing. Still we concluded 
to go down into it a little way, at least, 
to see what had become of the big 
buck. Scarcely two hundred yards had 
we gone, down a little swale, when a 
young setter dog I was training to 
point deer, and had so far kept close 
at my heel, suddenly stopped, and. 
tossing his nose high in air with in- 
quisitive sniff of the evening breeze, 
began to look very wise. Some two 
hundred yards ahead were two or three 
acres of ground covered with a dense 
grove of liveoaks and other trees, 
where there was probably a spring and 
plenty of thick underbrush in which 
this buck in the years gone by had 
probably whiled away many a summer 

As we neared the place the action of 
the dog showed plainly that the deer was 
there, but whether within or along the 
edge we could not tell. So we made a 
circuit of the surrounding slopes to see, 
and with the understanding that if he 
was not along the outer edges I should 
enter the timber from below, while my 
friend should watch for him on a point 
that commanded a view of the direc- 
tion in which he was likely to run 
when I entered the cover. 

A circuit of the slopes around showed 
nothing but a large, red-tailed hawk 
sitting in a sycamore among the tim- 
ber, and a wildcat on the hillside that 
twitched his bobtail out of sight into 
the brush in a twinkling. Going 
around to the lower end of the timber 
I threaded rnv wav among the tall 

spires of the arrow-grass and through 
fragrant ranks of wild celery that stood 
almost as bright as in the noon of 
summer. "Water-cresses lined with 
green the little stream that gurgled 
through it, and the wild pea was un- 
folding its gaudybanners over the fallen 
log beside which the columbine and the 
tiger lily were drooping after their long 
period of bloom. A large flock of 
mountain pigeons, driven down hj the 
snows in the higher ranges, burst* with 
clapping wings from the liveoaks at 
my approach and circled away upward 
to where the sunlight shone upon the 
burnished lavender of their breasts; 
the white-barred owl, with his ape-like 
face, stared at me from the limb of the 
Cottonwood, and the large ground- 
squirrel scampered away over the car- 
pet of leaves beneath the liveoak, but 
no place ever looked less like contain- 
ing a deer. 

Just as I had about concluded that 
the buck was skulking in the dense 
cover — a trick this deer knows right 
well how to do — my friend's rifle echoed 
along the hills. I ran at once for the 
hillside, and reached it in time to see 
a ball of glossy gray fade into the 
brush at the second crack of my com- 
panion's rifle, and sent a bullet from 
my own in ahead of it and where I 
thought it would be by the time the 
ball arrived. A crack of brush fol- 
lowed the report and sent hope soaring 
high, but in a moment more the deer 
came bounding out of a little gulch 
upon the hillside as gracefully and 
easily us the wave surges from what 
but the moment before was the trough 
of the sea. Here he cleared with loft}^ 
bound a granite boulder, there he 
skipped gaily around the next one; 
noAV he turned with easy curve to leave 
some bush on one side, and then over 
the next he went as light!}'- as the 
shadow of a passing cloud. 

Too far for a fair shot when we first 
saw him, his jumps were now so irreg- 
ular and the distance increasing so 
fast that the prospects of hitting him 
were very slender, and our only hope 
was in speed of fire. So the rocks 
along his course were warmed with 


( / 

lead that hissed and sang through the 
air above and beyond; yet he quick- 
ened not his pace. The hirger hare 
fled in a flash of yellowish brown from 
his path, the raven, with guttural 
croak, wheeled away upward out of all 
danger to his glossy coat, and the buz- 
zards slowly circling in to roost in the 
timber, sought other quarters at once. 
But our deer Avaltzed away up hill over 
the rocks and brush as gently as a 
beam of the rising sun plays from 
crest to crest of the chains of hills, un- 
til a dull click announced that the 
magazines of our rifles were empty. 
Then on he went from the shade in 

which our part of the scene was now 
wrapped into the sunlight along the 
upper slopes where the big rocks glis- 
tened and the chaparral was a brill- 
iant green instead of darkly blue; yet 
his coat outshone it all, as the rosy 
light played upon it, and never seemed 
game so fair as when he reached the 
top of the ridge and, wheeling half 
round, turned his broad ears and great 
branching horns full upon us with in- 
quiring gaze, while the sunlight glit- 
tered from every polished tine as he 
stood clear-cut against the mellowing 
blue of the eastern skv. 


By William A. Spalding. 

HE erudite Mr. George 
Gallesio, author of " The 
State Council and Sub- 
Prefect of Savona," in 
his preface to a learned 
treatise on the citrus 
family, written sixty years ago, says: 
" Of all the plants spread by Nature 
upon the surface of the globe, there 
are none more beautiful than those we 
know under the names of citron, lemon 
and orange trees, which botanists have 
included under the technical and gen- 
eric name of Citrus. ... In a 
word, these trees charm the eye, 
satisfy the smell, gratify the taste, 
serving both luxury and art, and pre- 
senting to astonished man a union of 
all delights." 

The opinion of Mr. Gallesio has been 
shared by all civilized races since the 
days of the Crusade. The citrus 
family has a quaint and curious his- 
tory. It is supposed to have origin- 
ated in Southern Asia, and in that 
portion of the East Indies lying be- 
yond the Ganges. In its primitive 
form the orange is believed to have 
been a bunch of pods attached at a 
common center on the end of a stem, 
each pod inclosing a small quantity of 
pulp and juice and several seeds. In 
a process of evolution, occupying no- 
body knows how many centuries, these 
pods gradually grew together, uniting 
at their edges and forming the com- 
plete spherical fruit. But the rudi- 
mentary divisions still remain, al- 
though the pericarp has disappeared 
from the inclosed surfaces and only a 
thin membrane remains. Sometimes 
we see an orange " sport " which shows 
a tendency to draw in the jiericarp 
along meridianal lines, as though the 
fruit were attempting to divide itself 
into pods again; sometimes we see a 
" sport" in an elongated pod-like form; 
sometimes a protuberance from the 
blossom-end of the orange assumes 

such a shape. All these show the 
tendenc}' of the fruit to revert to its 
oiiginal form — a bunch of pods. 

When Mohammed extended his con- 
quests into Asia he discovered citrus 
trees in their native habitat. Im- 
pressed with the beauty and fruitful- 
ness of the trees, the Arabians dis- 
seminated them by carrying seeds to 
Arabia, Syria and Palestine. In their 
westward incursions they also intro- 
duced the trees in Africa, Spain and 
in some of the European islands. The 
Arabs invaded Sicily about the begin- 
ing of the ninth century and planted 
orange and lemon trees on that island. 
That the orange had at that time been 
transformed from its original ajDO- 
carpous or pod-like form to a sphere is 
Attested by Abdallatif, an Arabian 
writer of the twelfth century, who re- 
fers to the "round citron" {otridg 
modawdr). He says it was brought 
from India subsequent to the year 300 
of the Hegira (A. D. 922). It was 
first served in Oman, Arabia; from 
thence carried to Irok, Persia, and 
finally introduced in Syria, becoming 
very common in the houses of Tarsus 
and other frontier cities of Syria, at 
Antioch, upon the coasts of Syria, in 
Palestine and in Egypt. 

Next came the Crusaders as dis- 
seminators of citrus trees. Entering 
Asia Minor as conquerors, they spread 
out as adventurers and traders through 
all parts of Asia. They were not slow 
to discover and appropriate such 
choice fruits as the orange and lemon. 
Sicilians, Genoise and Provencals 
transported to Palermo, St. Remo and 
Hyeres trees of the citrus family. 
Jacques de Vitry, a historian of the 
thirteenth century who accompanied 
the Crusaders to Palestine, thus 
quaintly describes the newly found 
fruits : 

'' Besides many trees cultivated in 
Italy, Genoa, France and other parts 



of Europe, we find here (in Pales^tine) 
species peculiar to the country, and of 
which some are sterile and others bear 
fruit. Here are trees bearing very 
beautiful apples — the color of citron — 
upon which is distinctly seen the 
mark of a man's tooth. This has 
given them the common name of 
pomme (^^ Jo >» (Adam's apple); others 
produced sour fruit, of a disagreeable 
taste, which are called limons. Their 
juice is used for seasoning food, be- 
cause it is cool, pricks the palate and 
provokes appetite. . . . There is 
a species of cedar called crdre mari- 
time^ whose plant is small but produc- 
tive, giving very fine fruits as large as 
a man's head. Some call them citrons, 
or poynmes citrons. These fruits are 
formed of a triple substance and have 
three different tastes. The first is 
warm, the second is temperate, the 
last is cold. Some say that this is the 
fruit of which God commanded in 
Leviticus : ' Take you the first day of 
the year the fruit of the finest tree.' 
We see in this country another species 
of citrine apples, borne by small trees, 
and of which the cool part is less of a 
disagreeable and acid taste; these the 
natives call orengesJ' 

It was at this period that the or- 
chards of Europe gained as accessions 
from the Orient the damson plum, the 
St. Catherine pear, the apricot and 
other valued fruits. 

From Sicily the Roman States and 
the islands of the Archipelago first 
received their orange and lemon trees. 
Thus Sardinia, Corsica and Malta were 
first stocked with fruit trees which 
have ever since been of the utmost 
service to their people of those isl- 

The lemon was first cultivated in 
Europe for the use made of its juice as 
seasoning for food and in confections, 
which became very popular in Europe 
on the introduction of sugar. After- 
ward both orange and lemon trees 
were grown largely in gardens for or- 
namental purposes. The monks planted 
them in the courts and grounds of their 
monasteries. An aged tree which stands 
in the court of the convent of St. Sabina, 

at Rome, is accredited to the planting 
of St. Dominick about the year 1200. 

The aesthetic fancy spread to colder 
latitudes where citrus trees could not 
exist the year round in the open air, 
and this first led to the establishment 
of hot-houses. These, in France were 
called orangeries, and in the fourteenth 
century they were regarded as an al- 
most indispensable adjunct to the gar- 
dens of princes and nobles. In the fif- 
teenth century orangeries or hot-houses 
became more common and were much 
in vogue with people of the wealthier 
class, chiefly in countries where a cov- 
ering of glass, without other artificial 
heat, was sufficient to protect the trees. 

It remained for the eighteenth and 
nineteenth centuries to disseminate 
citrus trees to countries best adapted 
to their cultivation in the open air, to 
produce the fruit in quantities and in- 
troduce it to the world as an article of 
commerce. The age of romance made 
an ajsthetic use of the trees; our more 
practical age has converted them into 
an agency of money-getting. 

We now find citrus trees cultivated 
for profit in the following countries: 

In the Riviera, South Coast of 
France, along the coast of the Medit- 
erranean, over one hundred varieties 
are grown; not only are the oranges 
exported as fruit, but orange-flower 
water is distilled from the flowers, 
and both flowers and fruit enter large- 
ly into other manufactures. Consul 
Bradley reported in 1890 that one firm 
alone used 700,000 pounds of flowers 
for this purpose. Tons are can-dried 
green. Neroli, a popular perfume, is 
extracted from some varieties. 

The orange is extensively grown in 
Spain, the favored localities being 
along the Mediterranean, in the 
provinces of Valencia, Andalusia and 
Barcelona. The islands of the Medit- 
erranean have become famous for their 
citrus products, Corsica, Sardinia and 
Sicily being best known. The Italian 
oranges we receive come mainly from 
the districts of Carrara, Genoa, Naples 
and Verona. 

Oranges come from various parts of 
the Levant; the Azores, 800 miles 



west of Portugal; from Asia Minor, 
especially from Smyrna. 

In Palestine the j^rincipal groves 
are at Jaffa, while some are found at 
Gaza and about Jerusalem. The fruit 
grown inland is inferior. 

Smyrna is famous for its orange 
and lemon groves. In Beirut and vi- 
cinity varieties, sour, sweet, and man- 
darins occur. The " best fruits are 
grown along the sea; few trees being 
found in the interior valleys. Haifa, 
Mersinia, Sidon, Tarsus, Tripoli and 
vicinity are all famous for their groves. 

In Nagpur, India, several choice 
varieties of oranges are grown, none of 
which are familiar to us by name. 
Here there are two seasons for ripen- 
ing fruit during the year. The finest 
fruit is obtained from flowers that 
open in June and July. This fruit is 
on the market from February to May. 
The other flowering takes place in 
February and March. This ripens 
from December to February. But the 
same trees cannot produce fruit in 
both seasons without great detriment 
to both fruit and trees. 

In Philippine Islands, off the coast 
of China and India, five varieties of 
orange and four of lemons are found. 
They grow wild in the jungles and are 
cultivated to some extent, but the 
fruit is not of a character to invite ex- 
portation. Consul Webb, of Manilla, 
says: " I am quite sure there is not a 
native orange or lemon that would 
compare at all favorably with the or- 
dinary products of Florida and Cali- 

Australia is gradually becoming an 
important field for citrus fruits, es- 
pecially in the colonies of New South 
Wales, Queensland and Victoria. The 
areas under crop and the produce are 
as follows: 

Gross Produce. 
Colony. Year. Acres. Dozen. 

New South Wales.. 1889 10,851 19,693,880 

Queensland 1888 1,068 742,417 

Victoria 1888 34 

Consul Griffin says: 

" It is probable that when the re- 
turns for 1889 for Victoria are avail- 
able they will show a very large 
increase, for since the inauguration of 

irrigation colonies there, large areas of 
orangeries have been planted at Mil- 
dura and elsewhere. The orange and 
lemon tree is also being planted on a 
large scale at the newly established 
irrigation colonies in South Australia." 

Of Cape Colony, Africa, Consul 
Hollis says: "The time was, and not 
so long ago, when the orange crop of 
this colony meant a grand revenue to 
the farmer. With the advent of the 
Australian bug, Vedolia, all this is 
changed, and in place of trees loaded 
with luscious fruit, now only remain 
a few blackened stumps to show where 
the trees once stood. No sj'stematic 
effort was made to eradicate the pest, 
A saying it was useless to struggle 
against the evil, while B, whose or- 
chard was close by, gave the bug free 
license to breed and multiply." 

In Morocco only seedlings are 
grown, and these in great variety. 
Water is raised for irrigation by animal 

At Bahia, Brazil, oranges are grown 
only for home consumption. Sweet and 
sour limes are also produced. In Brit- 
ish Guiana, tangerine, bitter, sweet 
and myrtle oranges are grown. No ir- 
rigation, no pruning, no fertilizing. 
Limes abundant and cheap, but no 
lemons. In Ecuador thick and thin- 
skinned, sweet and sour oranges and 
limes are grown. The yield of oranges 
by number is about 1,500,000 per an- 
num. Of lemons about 30,000 were 
exported in 1890. In Venezuela or- 
anges are grown for home consump- 
tion only; they do not thrive near the 
coast, but in interior valleys. Lemons 
and limes are also grown. Oranges 
also grow in a wild state in all fa- 
vorable localities of Central Amer- 
ica, though they are not cultivated 
or exported. At Guerrero, Mexico, 
sweet and bitter oranges, navel oranges, 
lemons, limes, shaddocks and citrons 
are grown. Some 15,000 boxes of limes, 
representing for the growers a value of 
about $25,000, are exported annually, 
per steamers of the Pacific Mail Steam- 
ship Company to San Francisco. Only 
small quantities of oranges are ex- 
ported to the same market from De- 



cember to February, before other sup- 
plies are available. In Sonora, oranges 
were introduced by the Jesuit fathers, 
ninety years ago, but they were grown 
only for home consumption until four 
years ago, when the advent of the So- 
nora railroad gave an impetus to the 
industry by furnishing a means of ex- 
port to the United States. In 1888 
14,000 boxes of 200 oranges each were 
shipped. Orange trees grow along the 
sea coast and in the interior up to 3000 
feet altitude. The trees are budded and 
irrigation is practiced. Lemons and 
limes are grown to a limited extent. 
There are no insect pests. 

In Lower California oranges are 
grown at San Antonio, San Jose and 
La Paz. Consul Viosca says: "The 
•citrus family comprises here six species 
fruitful and profitable for cultivation: 
■citron, shaddock (toronja), large lem- 
ons, limes (citrus limetta), lima, sweet 
lime, king orange. The lima chichona, 
■or sweet teat lime, weighs commonly 
from twelve to fourteen ounces and is 
very delicious. The king orange is the 
production of an orange tree, a young 
.shoot grafted into a sweet lime tree, 
and in time from that to a shaddock 
•or toronja, and finally a shoot from 
this last is again grafted on a common 
orange tree. Each of the orange fruit 
weighs from four to five pounds, and is 
of very delicate and sweet flavor and 
also exempt from acid."" 

Oranges grew quite extensively in 
Bermuda until the trees were destroyed 
•early in the sixties by the cottony 
•cushion scale. In Dominica orange trees 
are not cultivated, but grow promiscu- 
ously throughout the island. The fruit 
begins to ripen early in September and 
continues until the end of November. 
In Jamaica the fruit grows wild and 
without other cultivation than keeping 
down the bush. But the cultivation 
is regarded as secondary to the use of 
the land for cattle or sheep pasturage, 
and the care and handling of the fruit 
is, as a rule, of the roughest and most 
careless description. In Trinidad and 
Guadaloupe much the feame condition 
obtains. In Cuba no regular system 
of cultivation of oranges and lemons 

for export is followed. The only plant- 
ings are in scattered spots about the 
buildings of small proprietors. The 
trees seldom receive the care of good 
husbandry, and whatever surplus arises 
in this way over local demand is sold 
to gatherers, who ship it to the United 

In Porto Rico orange trees grow all 
over the island and are cultivated. 
No irrigation is necessary. Each tree 
in full bearing is estimated to yield 
from 1,000 to 1,500 oranges, the sur- 
plus crop being exported to the United 

Formerly oranges were grown quite 
extensively in Louisiana, but during 
the last decade the trees have been re- 
peatedly frozen down and the industry 
is now practically destroyed. Florida 
and California produce the bulk of 
home-grown oranges. On the char- 
acter of the industry in these two 
States it is unnecessary to dilate here.* 

Coming now to the subject of citrus 
fruit culture in California, we will at- 
tempt only a cursory glance, consider- 
ing the general conditions as compared 
with those which obtain in other 
countries. It is not the object of 
this paper, even if the space allotted 
were sufficient, to enter into details 
of propagation, cultivation, varie- 
ties, picking, packing, shipping, etc. 
There is much which might be 
said about the planting of the seed; 
much about the nurture of the little 
sprout — about budding, pruning, cul- 
tivating, fighting the enemies of citrus 
trees, and, finally, about securing 
revenue from the well-earned fruit. 
One reason why there is so much to 
be said on all these branches of the 
subject is because orange growing is a 
work of the head no less than of the 
hands; indeed, without the head-work 
the hand-work is more than likely to 
be thrown away. Another reason is 
because citrus culture in California is 
wholly dependent on artificial condi- 
tions. Citrus trees are not indigen- 
ous to our soil, nor are our seasons 

* In a future number will appear a fully illus- 
trated article on the culture of the orange as carried 
on in California from Marysville to San Diego. 



suited to their growth without some 
very material assistance rendered by 
man. A seed dropped by the wayside 
will not spring up unattended and in 
time produce a bearing tree, as it 
would in the hummock lands of 
Florida or in the perpetually moist 
soils of lower Mexico and Central 
America or in the West Indies. Every 
citrus tree brought to a state of frui- 
tion with us, from Marysville to San 
Diego, involves more or less attention 
and labor; and, generally speaking, 
the more suitable and painstaking 
this attention is the better the tree 
and its products. 

At iSrst glance these artificial con- 
ditions under which we are obliged 
to lalx)r would seem to be a 
great disadvantage. But they are 
not. On the contrary, they form 
one of the strongest guarantees we 
have of the success of the industry. 
One can see at a glance that, if 
oranges were growing wild in half the 
mountain canyons and along the 
streams, .so that anybody could have 
them for the picking, there would be 
no stimulus to individual effort: there 
would be no selection and propagation 
of fine varieties: the markets would 
1>e demoralized and. in short, a great, 
well-organized industry, as we have it 
to-day. would be relegated to the 
limbo of forgotten things. In general, 
that calling which offers ample re- 
wards for the most unremitting care 
and toil will elicit the most thought. 
and the most thought brings the most 
progress. It was among the well- 
tended farms of a little island off the 
English coast and on the dearly 
bought flats of Holland that the .Jer- 
sey and Holstein breeds of cattle were 
developed — not on the great plains of 
Texas, where stock grows without any 
care whatever. Let us, then, take 
heart of our many disadvantages — 
those which involve the most toil and 
worry — and assure ourselves that they 
are blessings in disguise. If our con- 
ditions are artificial they are. never- 
theless, the very Vjest. For example, 
instead of planting our trees on per- 
petually moist land, which is apt to 

be too cold, and therefore to lower the 
standard of the fruit, we may select 
the warm upland and supply arti- 
ficially just as much moisture as the 
tree requires to bring it to perfection. 
We are thus independent of seasons of 
drouth, and we have no seasons of 
flood that trouble our groves. Our 
long summers give a maximum of 
sunshine which the tree requires for 
its healthy development and the pro- 
duction of high-flavored fruit. 

In a word we may justly felicitate 
ourselves on the fact that in methods 
of citrus culture California leads the 
world. The choicest varieties from 
every quarter of the globe have been 
introduced and are treasured and 
propagated in accordance with their 
value and adaptability to our soil and 
climate. Our methods of propagating, 
cultivating and treatment of fruit are 
the most advanced. In fertilizing we 
were somewhat derelict a few years 
ago, depending rather too much on 
the natural fertility of soil and the 
stimulus from irrigation: but much 
attention is now given to fertilizers, 
natural and prepared. Science is 
here made the guide, counselor and 
friend of the industry, and the culti- 
vator now has available every means 
of fertilizing the soil which the most 
progressive horticulture can suggest. 

In the matter of combating insect 
pests, science has again been our best 
friend, and we have practically, and, 
it is hoped, permanently secured the 

Our markets are principally in our 
own country, and there is still a wide 
margin for growth in shutting out for- 
eign importations, with the great ad- 
vantage of a taiiff in our favor. If the 
home-grown product does not yet half 
supply the consumption of the coun- 
try, there is every incentive for doub- 
ling the production. Besides, the mar- 
ket is one which will grow with what 
it feeds on. The United States is 
constantly increasing in population, 
wealth and luxurious taste, and the 
demand for those standard luxuries — 
oranges and lemons — will grow with 
the general advance. 



In orange growing, taking into ac- 
count the vast acreage planted, but 
not yet in bearing, we are much nearer 
the natural limit of supply and de- 
mand than we are in the production 
of lemons and limes. I look for an 
immense stimulus in the planting of 
the acid fruits within the next few 

There is still a good field of profit in 
manufactured products of citrus trees 
which has yet hardly been entered 
upon. In these branches we need to 
take lessons from the South of France. 
Why should we not utilize the tons of 
orange blossoms which oar trees pro- 
duce in surplus of all fruit require- 
ments almost every vear? From these 

the French make orange-flower water, 
perfumes and confections. From the 
rinds of the fruit they extract essences 
and oils; from the pulp they make 
marmalades, glaces and confections. 

The juice of lemons and limes is 
the basis for important articles of com- 
merce in some countries, being either 
shipped in the liquid clarified form, or 
converted into citric acid. The ad- 
vantage of these manufactures is that 
they largely utilize what would other- 
wise go to waste, and all revenue re- 
ceived from them above the cost of la- 
bor and machinery is clear gain. A 
South of France province would grow 
opulent from the refuse citrus products 
of California. 


Bv Henrv Grant Curtiss. 

say that the courtship of 
the birds is a caricature of 
the grand passion of the hu- 
man race may not be strict- 
h' true, yet when the wooing 
of our feathered friends is 
compared to that whichholds 
among men, the similarity of 
method, the amusing analogies con- 
stantly met with, create the impression 
that the same general principle holds 
to the same extent in both. That birds 
literal!}' fall in love, are consumed by 
jealousy and are impelled to destroy 
their rivals, pine, and even die when 
separated from the object of their af- 
fections must be conceded; while the 
same methods which are employed by 
human lovers to win the affections of 
the opposite sex are often reproduced 
with the greatest fidelity. Certain 
paroquets, known as love-birds, are 
well known for their singular demon- 
strations of affection one to the other, 
a greater portion of their time being 
occupied in delicate and amorous at- 
tentions; and that the love between 
them is intense, has been shown in 
several instances where the male has 
pined away and died when separated 
from his mate. 

In human courtship the fair one is 
won by many blandishments and arts 
the prototypes of which may be found 
among the birds. The human lover, 
as a rule, endeavors at first to attract 
the attention of the object of his choice 
by carefully decorating his person, 
paying particular attention to his 
toilet and costume, well knowing that 
in many instances the female eye is 
caught by the man of fashion, while 
the one who neglects his habiliments is 
passed by -oith scant notice. The hu- 
man lover uses his voice, serenades his 
mistress and touches the guitar or lute 
beneath her window. He haunts the 
localities which she frequents, and ex- 
hibits himself whenever occasion of- 

fers, by various methods .striving to 
create the impression that physically 
he is superior to other men. As the 
acquaintance progresses he lavishes 
upon her gifts of flowers and beautiful 
objects of various kinds, suggestive in 
their nature of his growing passion. If 
he is an athlete he gladly welcomes 
some contest in which he can exhibit 
his courage, and where he can demon- 
strate his prowess, enthused by the 
presence of his lady-love. In the old 
days as a knight he wore her colors or 
flower at the tourney, and defied all 
comers, while in modern times the 
same spirit actuates him, finding its 
expression in different fields. 

By those methods he wins her es- 
teem and finalh' her atfections, and se- 
cures the prize, often bearing her off 
in spite of the most violent opposition. 
Among the lower tribes of men much 
the same means are employed. In 
some cases the wooer is obliged to 
prove his ability to support a wife; in 
others the lover steals up to the village 
of his beloved, and, watching his op- 
portunit}-, fells her with a club, and 
with the assistance of his "best man," 
bears her away. Kissing is often a 
feature of courtship among the civil- 
ized nations of the earth; among the 
native Australians it is not known. 
Among some races the maiden is placed 
on horseback and becomes the bride 
of the man who catches her. The 
courtships and love customs among 
mankind differ very materially, yet in 
almost every instance there is a strik- 
ing parallelism with the love actions 
of some of the birds. The latter court 
the females with an ardor that cannot 
be misunderstood; exhibit their per- 
sonal attractions, their gorgeous feath- 
ers and tints, endeavor to gain their 
affections by the presentation of flow- 
ers and bric-a-brac of various kinds; 
treat them to dainty tid-bits of food 
with much ceremony and circum- 


stance, serenade them with notes vocal 
and instrumental, and endeavor to win 
them by bursts of song and melody. 
Many birds go through marvelous per- 
formances, trials of grace, strength 
and endurance before the opposite sex ; 
try conclusions with rivals, and fight 
them to the death. Certain birds, 
conspicuously the pigeons, kiss each 
other during the season of courtship, 
and various others caress the bills of 
their lovers with their own. In short, 
almost the complete line of attack 
made by the human lover upon the 
affections of the object of his choice is 
found among the birds. 

The brutal method of obtaining a 
wife by the use of a club finds a proto- 
type among some of the woodpeckers, 
where several males not only fight 
among themselves, but pursue the fair 
one until she is completely exhausted. 
From tree to tree she is chased by a 
vociferous throng and terrorized until 
finally she is reduced to the extremity 
of accepting the aid of one of the lov- 
ers, whereupon the two turn upon the 
rest and beat them off. In certain hu- 
man tribes the wooer must not simply 
secure the affections of the fair one, 
but must satisfy her family, by vari- 
ous tests, that he is fitted for the re- 
sponsibility. His general appearance, 
stature, muscular development, abil- 
ity to work and fight are all taken into 
consideration, and if he passes all the 
tests he secures the object of his choice. 
In other tribes, notably those of the 
Dyaks, the attentions of a lover would, 
some years ago, not have been received 
unless he could show a goodly collec- 
tion of human heads. Those who have 
noticed the courtship of cranes and 
herons will note an interesting "in- 
stance of a methodical exhibition of 
physical agility. The actions of the 
sandhill cranes while engaged in 
their courtships are, perhaps, the 
most interesting. At the pairing, 
or mating time, numbers have 
been seen to congregate, evidently for 
the especial purpose of testing their 
several claims to the attention of the 
fair ones who stand near by in groups. 
An acquaintance of the writer owned a 

farm in one of the Western States 
where these birds came to nest yearly, 
and from the concealment afforded by 
a haystack was witness to some re- 
markable exhibitions on the part of 
the amorous feathered swains. At cer- 
tain times they assembled in groups 
of from ten to twenty, standing for a 
while erect like statues. Suddenly a 
bird would leap several feet into the 
air, coming down gently with half- 
spread wings, to run around with bill 
lowered, as if pretending to search for 
something which evidently existed in 
its imagination alone. After running 
about the crane stops suddenly, giving 
way to another bird, that leaps into 
the air so vigorously that it fairly clears 
the back of a comrade, then clashes 
away, piroueting, dancing, fluttering 
its wings, throwing itself into endless 
positions calculated to attract the at- 
tentions of the demure females. The 
movements of these birds are infec- 
tious, and are followed by others, and 
soon a number of cranes appear to 
have either gone mad or to be engaged 
in a contesting dance. Some trot 
around in a circle, others run quickly, 
some jump into the air as if hopping 
on one foot, the entire performance be- 
ing a most ludicrous exhibition in 
which what are usually sedate and dig- 
nified birds appear to have lost their 

These dances, at least in certain 
cases, are a prelude to the mating 
season, being a literal exhibition be- 
fore the females. The writer has been 
fortunate in observing the love antics 
of the great heron, its dances being 
almost identical with those described, 
and among many of the group this 
curious love-making may be observed: 
that of the Demoiselle crane ( Tetrap- 
terix) being perhaps the most remark- 
able. The courtship of these birds is 
so singular that, were it not authenti- 
cated by careful observers, the recital 
might well excite suspicion. Accord- 
ing to Prof. Van Xordmann, the Rus- 
sian naturalist, the cranes are first 
observed in Southern Russia in the 
month of March, at which time flocks 
of several hundred begin to arrive for 



the mating. They are now seen 
standing about in groups and gather- 
ing in bands eA'ery morning and even- 
ing, when they go through perform- 
ances that can only be compared to 
methodical and carefully prepared 
dances or an elaborate minuet, having 
for its object a display of the rare 
beauty and agility of the males. A 
level, flat stretch of land is selected 
for the exhibition, generally along the 
edge of some stream. Here the cranes 
l^lace themselves in line or in rows, as 
the case may be. " They dance," 
says Van Nordmann, "'and jump 
around each other, bowing in a l)ur- 
lesque manner, advancing their necks, 
raising the feathers of the neck tufts 
and half unfolding the wings. In the 
mean time, another set are disputing 
in a race the prize for swiftness. 
Arriving at the winning post, they 
turn back and walk slowly and with 
gravity, all the rest of the company 
saluting them with reiterated cries, 
inclinations of the head and other 
demonstrations, which are recipro- 
cated. After having done this for 
some time, they all rise in the air, 
W'here, slowly sailing, they describe 
circles, like the swan and other cranes. 
After some weeks these assemblies 
cease, and from that time they are 
seen constantly walking in loving 
pairs together." That this exhibition 
is closely associated with the selection 
of mates is, in fact, a part of their 
courtship, there can be but little 

Equally singular is the courtship of 
the cock of the rock, according to Le 
Vaillant. The bird is found in South 
America, and in former years its red- 
dish-yellow^ feathers formed one of the 
imperial robes of State. At certain 
times, previous to the pairing, the 
birds meet in a given locality, as if 
by previous arrangement, and form an 
irregular enclosure or circle, in the 
center of which a bird takes its place 
as a performer does in the circus, 
walking around and around, lifting 
up its feet, stretching its wings from 
side to side, extending its head, hop- 
ping this way and that; in short, do- 

ing its utmost to exhibit itself to the 
assembled audience. When the per- 
former is thoroughly exhausted it re- 
tires, and its place in the ring or 
arena is taken by a fresh contestant 
for honors that, with different 
methods, seeks to make an impression 
upon the group of females near at 
hand. One after the other the birds 
go through this singular dance that is 
supiwsed to be a jiart of the courtship 
of the birds and which can but call to 
mind similar exhibitions among 
human beings. 

Audubon refers to what he terms 
the love antics of the wild goose, and 
describes its courtship. The love- 
making of the humming bird is often 
accompanied with contests betw^een 
the males, resulting in the death of 
one or both. What is supposed to be 
the courtship of the Peruvian hum- 
ming bird (Loddigesia mirahilis) has 
been observed by a naturalist. It is 
carried on in the air, the bird station- 
ing itself immediatelv below a limb in 
the air and remaining in one place 
with its tail feathers spread out so 
that they appeared like a twig upon 
which it rested, and were at right 
angles to the Ijody. When exhausted 
the birds would return to a branch to 
rest, to again take their places in the 
air. occasionally changing places, both 
endeavoring to display their manifi- 
cent plumage. Their 'crests of vivid 
sapphire-blue, breasts of golden green, 
with ruffles of white about their feet, 
made a most attractive spectacle. The 
contests of these little creatures sink 
into insignificance beside those of the 
ruff — a wading bird — which, at the 
time of courtship, becomes a knight 
errant, throwing down the gauntlet to 
any and all comers. So pugnacious is 
the ruff that it has certain places set 
apart for its duels, where the males 
meet upon the field of honor and settle 
their disputes to the bitter end. 

Of all the bird-lovers the small and 
remarkable group known as the bower- 
birds and their allies astonish us by 
what may be termed their sestheticism 
in love-making. No human lover of 
culture and refinement approaches the 



subject with more deference to the 
tastes of the fair one than these bird 
courtiers that captivate the object of 
their devotions, not by brutally ibllo^v- 
ing them around from tree to tree, but 
by erecting elaborate structures, gar- 
nishing them with ornaments from the 
bird point of view, solely for the pur- 
pose of producing an effect upon the 
aesthetic sense of the female. The love 
of linery, of beautiful objects, of self- 
decoration, is inherent in human life. 
The dusky savage wooer presents the 
father or the family of his lady-love 
various gifts, and later makes offer- 
ings to the fair one herself. The lover 
high in the scale of civilization con- 
siders gift-making an essential of the 
wooing — a feature that custom sanc- 
tions, and of two lovers, the one whose 
delicate attentions, expressed in gifts 
of flowers, jewels, books and other ob- 
jects of use or bric-a-brac, will in many 
cases be received with the greatest fa- 
vor. The lover thus gives a tangible 
and delicate expression of his emotions. 
His gift is a token of his regard, and 
may be interpreted in various ways, 
while its very character may imply a 
delicate compliment to the recipient. 
By gifts of flowers he recognizes her 
love for the aesthetic and beautiful in 
nature, and is but following out a plan 
of seige upon her heart as old as the 
hills themselves. The object of the 
young man's affection is taken to balls, 
festivals, fairs, the theatre or circus 
and to various places of amusement, 
the wooer often actuated by the senti- 
ment that he can insensibly place her 
under certain obligations which will 
assume the form of a reciprocation of 
the fervid sentiments which inspire 
him. Do we not find a parallelism in 
the bower-birds and their cousins? 
These birds are surely the cavaliers, 
the gallants of bird creation. Ttiey are 
knights in all the term implies, and 
are possessed of romantic and aesthetic 
dispositions. They lay at the feet of 
the objects of their devotion pledges 
that are at once complimentary and 
delicate recognitions of a love for the 
beautiful. The perfection of this bird 
courtship, where the highest aestheti- 

cism is expressed, is found in the actions 
of the little bird known as the "Gard- 
ener," or Amhiynrnis inornata. The 
circumstance is so remarkable that the 
first reports were considered the efibrts 
of some vivid imagination or the im- 
probable tale of some native wag; but 
finally no less an authority than Count 
Rosenberg, the Dutch naturalist, came 
forward and described the home or hall 
which the bird builds and in and 
about which its courtship is carried 
on. The first published account was 
given by Dr. Beccari, the Italian na- 
turalist. In traveling through the in- 
terior of New Guinea he finally came 
to the Arfak Mountains, where his ob- 
servations were made. One day, hav- 
ing left the party and wandered away 
by himself, he came upon a miniature 
cabin standing in the midst of a lit- 
tle meadow of green, studded with flow- 
ers. The resemblance to a play-house 
carefully built by some intelligent 
child was complete. The entire struct- 
ure was artificial; even the meadow 
was formed of moss brought from a 
distance for the purpose and carefully 
arranged and kept clean. The cabin 
was about three feet in diameter, hav- 
ing the stalk of a tree running up 
through the center and formed of the 
stems of an orchid {Dendrohium.) The 
bird or birds had selected a small 
shrub, which had a trunk about the 
size and height of a walking-stick. 
Around the base of this moss was 
packed, forming a cone five or six 
inches across. Against the central 
trunk, about a foot and a half from 
the top, the stalks of the orchids were 
laid or leaned, being placed regularly 
so that an opening on one side, or door, 
was left, a horseshoe-shaped interior 
being the result. All this is wonder- 
ful enough, but Dr. Beccari suggests 
that the orchid was especially selected 
for raftering, on account of its disposi- 
tion to live and grow after being trans- 
planted. In any event, such is the 
case. The sticks or sterns are in- 
terwound with grasses by the birds, 
and the whole roof grows together so 
that it is waterproof, and is a complete 
residence with a semi-circular interior, 



a door and a lawn. When the struct- 
ure is complete the bird proceeds to 
ornament and decorate it, gathering 
choice and highly colored flowers, scat- 
tering them upon the lawn or meadow, 
or fastening them in the sides of the 
house, so that the structure gives the 
impression of having been decorated 
by some tasteful human hand. Refer- 
ring to this. Dr. Beccari says: "But 
the aesthetic tastes of our ' gardeners ' 
are not restricted to the construction 
of a cabin; their fondness for flowers 
and for gardens is still more remark- 
able. Directly in front of the entrance 
to their cabin is a level place occupy- 
ing a superficies about as large as that 
of the structure itself. It is a meadow 
of soft moss, transported thither, kept 
smooth and clean and free from grass, 
Aveeds, stones and other objects not in 
harmony with its design. Upon this 
graceiul green carpet are scattered flow- 
ers and fruit of different colors in such 
a manner that they really present the 
appearance of an elegant little garden. 
The greater number of these ornaments 
appear to be accumulated near the en- 
trance to the cabin. The variety of 
objects thus collected is very great 
and they are always of brilliant colors. 
Not only does the amblyornis select its 
ornaments from among flowers and 
fruit, but showy fungi and elegantly 
colored insects are also distributed 
about the garden and within the gal- 
leries of the cabin. When these ob- 
jects have been exposed long enough 
to lose their freshness, they are taken 
from the cabin, thrown away, and re- 
placed by others." It was not the 
good fortune of Dr. Beccari to observe 
the bird in its cabin, but he ascer- 
tained that the latter was distinct and 
separate from the nest, which was built 
in a tree and that the cabin was ex- 
clusively a place of meeting for the 
sexes, or a hall of courtship. The na- 
tives called the bird the tukan-kofan 
or gardener bird, and rarely destroyed 
the little cabins when they found them. 
The Papuans, who are also familiar with 
it, call it the master bird or hnorungurd, 
and believe that the house is erected 
as a place where the male can present 

gifts to the female. That the flowers 
are placed there purely as ornaments 
is shown by the fact that in the rear of 
the house is a heap of withered flowers, 
which have been deposited there to 
make place for fresh and more attrac- 
tive decoration. In all lower animal 
life this is perhaps the most remark- 
able exhibition of a taste that approxi- 
mates that known as aesthetic among 
human beings. The amblyornis is a 
small bird, about half as long as a 
robin, a rufous-colored little creature 
whose general appearance gives no sus- 
picion of its wonderful architectural 
attainments. What human lover gives 
more delicate attention to his lady- 
love? The bird-lover not only pays 
assiduous court, but he builds a house 
for the especial convenience of his lady- 
love; embellishes it wdth beautiful 
works of nature, and amid the most 
romantic surroundings pays his ad- 
dresses. The human lover goes to re- 
markable extremes during the court- 
ship, but he has yet to erect an art 
gallery for the express purpose of carry- 
ing on his devotions. 

When the satin bower-bird, Ptilo- 
onoj'hynchus violacens, falls in love, the 
preparations for the capture of its 
mate are almost as remarkable as in 
the case of the gardener bird. Years 
ago, when Europeans first penetrated 
the Australian bush, they heard ac- 
counts from the natives of birds that 
built houses, but thinking them sim- 
ple exaggerations, paid but little at- 
tention to them. Finally reliable nat- 
uralists took an interest in the matter, 
and it was ascertained that certain 
birds of the country not only built 
nests, but more or less elaborate houses, 
or runways, for the purpose of grati- 
fying their aesthetic tastes and those of 
the females. Mr. Gould, the well- 
known ornithologist, first examined 
these bowers, as they are called, in the 
cedar-bvush of the Liverpool Mount- 
ains, and several of the structures, 
with all their art treasures, may be 
seen in the collection of the British 
Museum. Mr. Gould found the bowers 
of the satin bird generally in the shade 
of some tree in a retreat not easilv 



found. The first act of the bird is to 
collect a number of twigs and sticks, 
which it places upon the ground with 
some regularity, winding them in and 
out, forming a platform, or floor, upon 
which the bower is to be built. The 
timbers selected for the sides are lighter 
than the others, slender and flexible. 
and are taken separately by the bird 
and thrust into the platform, so that 
they bend, or curve, inward, almost 
meeting. A row of these extends a 
greater or less distance, as the case 
may be, or according to the taste of the 
builder, and then a row is placed on 
the opposite side, or the two walls may 
be framed at the same time, the twigs 
being arranged at a regular distance, 
and inclined so that they nearly, if not 
quite, meet at the top. When com- 
pleted the hall, or structure, is a tun- 
nel of twigs, the latter all carefully ar- 
ranged so that the branches or crotches 
are upon the outside, offering no ob- 
stacle to the birds as they pass up and 
down. The bower-bird does not stop 
here. It has erected a structure that 
is far ahead of the houses of s me sav- 
ages, and now proceeds to demonstrate 
that it possesses that which the sav- 
age has not- — a love for the beautiful, 
an aesthetic taste well shown by the 
decorations of the hall of courtship. 
What may be termed bird bric-a-brac 
is now collected; any bright object 
which would attract the attention of 
any ornament-loving female is seized 
and brought to the hall; bright feath- 
ers are attached to the twigs; white 
or bleached bones of singular shape 
are hung on the crotches; attractive 
shells are strewn about, some birds ex- 
hibiting a special liking for one object, 
some for anuther. A certain helix or 
white snail shell is found in the hills, 
often by the dozen, while bits of red 
flannel, pieces of glass and quartz are 
always present if the bower is in the 
vicinity of a camp. So well is the 
habit of the bird understood by natives 
that if any small object is missing the 
bric-a-brac heap, or collection of the 
bower-bird, is examined, and the arti- 
cle is possibly discovered. In one in- 
stance a brass button, a piece of shin- 

ing tin, a stone tomahawk and a to- 
bacco pipe were found in one bower, 
having been collected from time to 
time by the birds. The bower com- 
pleted, and its ornaments hung and 
placed in position, the birds run and 
hop through it, chasing each other 
about, showing their delight in many 
ways; picking up the various objects 
and changing them about to suit the 
fancy and caprice of the moment. The 
satin bower-bird that thus goes a-woo- 
ing is a richly hued bird as large as 
a magpie, the prevailing tint being a 
satin-black, while the female is a gray- 
ish green, with a pale, yellowish tint 
beneath. It must be conceded that a 
bird that attempts to influence the ob- 
ject of its aflections by appealing to 
"her love of the beautiful must possess 
more than ordinary intelligence — at 
least a marvelous resemblance to the 
workings of the mind in lovers of a 
much higher degree. 

Equally singular is the courtship 
bower of the spotted bower-bird ( Ch la iv - 
adera maadata). While the satin 
bower-bird is found between the moun- 
tain ranges and the coast, this little 
builder, with its lines of black and 
rose-pink feathers, lives in the interior 
regions. Its bowers are larger and 
longer than the one described, being 
in some instances more than three feet 
in length. In its general formation it 
is the same, the walls being formed of 
twigs, but provided with an inner wall, 
or tapestry, of rich grasses, so ar- 
ranged that the heads, or tops, mingle 
and join together. In the arrange- 
ment of this inner lining of grasses 
there is an exhibition of remarkable 
intelligence. The ends are not, in 
every instance, thrust into the ground, 
and would not retain their upright po- 
sition were not some especial expedient 
adopted. This consists of weighting 
the ends of the grasses down with stones 
or pebbles, which the birds collect for 
the purpose, each straw having its 
stone. The latter, according to Mr. 
Gould, who discovered the bowers and 
watched the birds in them, diverge 
from the mouth of the run on either 
side, so as to form little paths through 



which the birds run. The bric-a-brac 
collections of these birds are often im- 
mense, when the size of the bird is 
considered, and many of the articles 
must have been brousht six or seven 
miles. While the ornaments are scat- 
tered along the hall, the greatest num- 
ber are found at either entrance, where 
a heap is often discovered, made up of 
shells, bones, roots of curious shape, 
snails, white or curiously colored peb- 
bles, seeds, — in fact, anything that is 
sufficiently curious to attract atten- 
tion. The specimens of these birds 
kept alive at the London Zoological 
Gardens do not nest, but they have 
given many exhibitions of building the 
halls of courtship, being provided with 
materials for the purpose, and when 
complete they would run through the 
tunnel, uttering loud notes. There are 
several other species which might be 
mentioned which erect bowers, or 
houses, separate and distinct from the 
nest, into which the female is beguiled 
and won by what is evidently an ap- 
peal to her love of finerv and the beau- 

No one could watch the courtship of 
the albatross, known familiarly as the 
mollymawk, and believe that birds 
have not an equivalent for kissing. 
This bird (Diomedia ruJminata), is 
about as large as a goose, nearly pure 
white, with a yellow patch or streak on 
the sides of the head. Even after the 
pairing the courtship is continued — a 
lengthened honeymoon, as it were. 
The birds having paired, select a place 
for the nest, which is a cylindrical 
mound of grass and clay about ten 
inches in height, with a slight depres- 
sion on top for the egg, which is, in re- 
ality, held in a pouch. The female 
sits on the nest, and. according to Pro- 
fessor Moseley, the naturalist of the 
" Challenger " expedition, the male 
stands beside her and pays her assidu- 
ous court. Professor Moseley Avatched 
the birds and observed what he terms 
a curious courtship. The male 
stretches out his neck, erects his Avings 
and feathers a bit. and utters a series 
of high-pitched, rapidly repeated 
sounds not unlike a shrill laugh. As 

he does this, says Professor Moseley, 
he puts his head up close against that 
of the female. Then the female 
stretches her neck straight up, and 
turning up her beak utters a similar 
sound, and rubs bills with the male 
again. This maneuver is constantly 
repeated. If this is not kissing, as 
kissing goes, Avhat is it ? The natural- 
ist of the "Challenger," in referring to 
the courtship of the great albatross 
(Diomedia exultann), says: " The male, 
standing by the female on the nest, 
raises his Avings, spreads his tail and 
elcA'ates it, throAvs up his head Avith 
the bill in the air or stretches it 
straight out forward as far as he can, 
and then utters a curious cry, like the 
raollymawk's, but in a much louder 
key, as would be expected from his 
larger larynx. Whilst uttering the 
cry the bird sAAays its neck up and 
down. The female responds with a 
similar note, and they bring the tips 
of their bills loA'ingly together. This 
sort of thing goes on for half an hour 
or so at a time.'' 

Equally as curious is the courtship 
of the long-billed and pouched peli- 
can. The voice of this bird resembles 
the sound produced by a person with 
asthmatic symptoms, and the vocal 
part of the courtship brings forcibly 
to mind the earnest conA^ersation of 
two Aactims to this malady. The 
birds caress one another Avith their 
long beaks the Avhile, ruffle their feath- j 
ers and wag their heads in a ludicrous " 
manner. The courtship is carried on 
either when swimming about or upon 
the bars and islands these birds affect. 
The nests of the bird, or at least those J 
obserA'ed by the writer, are remark- 1 
able for their roughness, resembling an 
armful of refuse dropped promiscu- 
ously into a low mangrove tree. The 
eggs are held by a special dispensa- 
tion of ProAadence, apparently no at- 
tempt being made to form a hollow or 
receptacle, the big blood-flecked eggs 
being simply caught in the crevices 
or held by sticks or Aveeds — the flotsam 
of the Gulf Stream. 

In the courtship of many birds 
there is employed a combination of 



vocal and instrumental sounds. This 
is true of the grouse. In the spring 
the males produce curious notes caused 
by the intiation and contraction of 
their gular sacs. In the sage-cock the 
latter are large and conspicuous and 
covered with a bright yellow skin. 
The sound comes as the sac is inflated, 
and the air slowly exhausted. There 
is heard, low at first, a deep, hollow 
tone, penetrating and resonant as it 
increases, resembling the sound made 
by blowing violently into a hollow 
tube or reed. In this manner the 
booming love-calls of the prairie 
chicken are made. Others, as the 
blue grouse, utter a sound resembling 
the whirr of a rattan cane; the sound 
being produced by the inflation and 
contraction of 1 wo orange-colored sacs. 

The courtship of the lolack-cock is a 
most interesting performance. The 
birds gather in large numbers at the 
time, the assemblies being known in 
Sweden as an "Orrlik" or " Lek." 
An open or clear spot is generally se- 
lected, where the males strut about, 
going through a number of maneuvers 
intended to attract the attention of 
the females. The male makes every 
attempt to display his attractions, 
stalking about, ruffling up its wings, 
with head high in air, in a manner at 
once pompous and laughable to the 
bystander, who is, perchance, playing 
the part of Paul Pry upon the bird 
comedy in real life. Occasionally the 
wooer stops, stands silent for a mo- 
ment, then comes the " boom," "boom," 
which proves to be a summons to the 
opposite sex or a call, the attractions of 
which they cannot resist, numbers 
gathering to listen to the serenade, 
after which the pairing begins and 
numerous matrimonial alliances are 

The love-making or courtship of the 
magnificent capercaili ( Tetraus Uro- 
gallus) of Scotland is always watched 
with interest by sportsmen and lovers 
of birds. The bird is a grand creature 
— easily the king of the tribe it repre- 
sents, and, by its size and handsome 
appearance, considered one of the finest 
game birds ever known. It is found 

in the pine forests, and generally by 
the end of March begins its courtship, 
which results in each male obtaining 
several mates. When engaged in its 
ante-nuptial love-making the capercaili 
takes its position in a clearing in the 
forest, or at other times on the upper 
limbof a lofty pine. His object now 
is to attract the attention of all the 
females of the vicinity and by his 
vocal and personal attractions secure 
their aff'ections and captivate them. 
It raises its head, utters a note which 
sounds like " pellep," repeated several 
times at near intervals; gradually 
the bird becomes absorbed or carried 
away by its refrain; highly . excited, 
its body sways to and fro; sounds like 
lilieknp come from its inflated throat, 
and then Avith head thrown back and 
tail raised it utters in impassioned 
strains the notes, hede, hede, hede. So 
engrossed is the wooer at this time 
that it is utterly carried away and be- 
comes oblivious to its surroundings. 
The " spel," as it is also called, is re- 
peated until in response the females 
gather from the surrounding bush and 
gaze at his splendors. Our lover is a 
jealous fellow, allowing no intrusion 
upon his supposed rights, attacking 
other males that venture too near or 
join in the serenade or love-calls. 

The drumming of the ruffled grouse 
is a familiar sound to those who follow 
this fine game bird, and it may be 
heard at various times during the 
year. Exactly how the sound is pro- 
duced is something of a mystery. 
While producing it the male usually 
stands upon a fallen tree trunk, and, 
stretching himself in a horizontal po- 
sition, beats downward with its wings, 
holding them rigid. The blows are 
first given with deliberation, but 
gradually the bird becomes excited, 
and they become more rapid, finally 
producing a peculiar, far-reaching, 
falling sound, which not only has a 
decidedly penetrative faculty, but com- 
bines ventriloquistic features, as the 
bird is difficult to place, the sounds 
appearing to come from several places 
at once. There is no little difference 
of opinion as to the way the sound is 



produced. Some careful observers be- 
lieve that the wings strike the flank 
only, while others are equally positive 
that they strike each other over the 
back, while many sportsmen and per- 
sons familiar with the birds, claim that 
the wings are struck against the tree, 
so producing the notes. The move- 
ment of the wings is so rapid that it 
is almost impossible to determine how 
the sound is made. In the breeding 
season it is a call to the females, yet 
is used at other times. The great ca- 
percaili is a polygamist, a Mormon 
among the birds, proud in the posses- 
sion of a harem, while the allied jun- 
gle fowl. {Gallus ferrugineus), is, it is 
believed, monogamous in its wild state, 
preferring the customs of the highest 
type of mankind, and happy in the 
possession of one wife. Drumming as 
a means of calling and captivating 
mates is not confined to the grouse 
alone. The fine pheasant {Enplocamii» 
horsfieldi), with its bluish-black tints 
and ornamental tail, found at a high 
altitude in Asia, drums loudly. This 
serves also as a challenge, and many 
males collect to dispute the right of 
the drumming kallege. 

That the feathered wooer depends 
upon its personal appearance to capti- 
vate the female is well known. As a 
rule the male is a magnificent creature, 
bedecked in plumes and colors, espe- 
cially adapted to catch the eye of the 
demure, somber-colored female. The 
peacock, the male of the Argus pheas- 
ant, and the cock lyrebird are ex- 
amples, where the tints, colors and de- 
signs are indescribable in their beauty. 
Among the pheasants the male is a 
superb creature, the female altogether 
unattractive. The courtship of the 
Crimson Tragophan {Cerzornis) is ac- 
companied vfiih a personal display of 
charms which characterize the bird as 
a feathered Beau Brummel. Rich in 
coloring, it also has two flesh}' horns 
capable of being erected on either side 
of the head, while pendant are wattles 
of brilliant hues which can be raised 
and rendered more conspicuous. The 
courtship begins in April, the males 
now calling their mates, enticing them 

by their love-notes and serenades to 
some clear spot in the woods of the 
lofty altitudes of India or China, where 
they are found. There, as a natural- 
ist has said, the males begin to "show 
off" before the females. A cock walks 
up and down in an excited manner be- 
fore a group of females, displaying all 
his charms of color to the best advant- 
age, and then having probably made a 
selection of a female the ardent lover 
literally throws himself at her feet, or to 
be exact, places himself before her in a 
crouching position. The tail is stretched 
along the ground, the head jerked vio- 
lently from side to side, forward and 
back, to display the gorgeous wattles. 
This concluded the lover brings the 
rich colors of his wings into play by 
unfolding and causing them to vibrate, 
the tints and hues blending and flash- 
ing in a manner that must dazzle the 
eyes of the demure and homely female. 
Now the neck of the crouching lover 
seems to dilate; the horns upon the 
head stand erect and vibrate with emo- 
tion, and the bird finally springs to his 
feet,becomiug at once not a supplicant 
but a grand creature, proud in his 
beauty and confident in his power to 
fascinate and please, and that the con- 
quest is complete there can be but lit- 
tle doubt. 

The most remarkable adornment 
among birds is found in the birds of 
Paradise, the plumes, remarkable col- 
ors and pink legs of sonle of the males 
rendering them extraordinary objects, 
especially when compared or con- 
trasted with the demure and unattract- 
ive females that are possibly aware of 
their inferiority, as in some cases, and 
especially in the emerald bird of Para- 
dise {P. apoda), the females become the 
wooers — a leap-year-like performance 
that has been described by M. Lesson, 
the French naturalist. The females 
collect in flocks in lofty trees and cry 
out in concert to their lovers, which 
later, are seen in the midst of a seraglio 
of fifteen or more females, displaying 
their charms. By a vibration of the 
entire plumage the male thus on ex- 
hibition raises his feathers, until the 
long delicate plumes of the side sur- 



round the bird like a golden halo, in 
the center of which, says M. de la 
Presuage, the bright green head forms 
a disc, looking like a little emerald 
sun, with its rays formed of the feath- 
ers of the two plumes. 

The courtship of many birds is car- 
ried on in the air, and is an aerial ex- 
hibition of evolutions of great boldness 
and beauty. The snipe and various 
other birds perform remarkable gyra- 
tions at the mating-time, while the 
woodcock, the goatsucker and many 
more have been seen undertak- 
ing feats of singular grace and 
beauty. How necessary an excep- 
tional personal appearance is in the 
bird world of love and courtship 
is illustrated by many cases where 
a flock of wives has deliberately de- 
serted the male for a more resplendent 
husband. A flock of ducks in the lake 
at Central Park, New York, deserted 
the male, being captured by a wild 
and richly hued drake that alighted 

among them. The old bird made every 
attempt to drive away the new-comer, 
but without success. The females were 
captivated, and ignored him com- 
pletely. The late Charles Darwin says: 
" That Lichtenstein, who was a good 
observer, assured Rudolph that the 
female widah bird {Chera frogne), de- 
serted its mate when the latter lost the 
fine tail feathers with which it was or- 
namented, during the mating season." 
Dr. Jahger, Director of the Zoological 
Garden at Vienna, states that a male 
silver pheasant that had been triumph- 
ant over females was superseded by a 
rival immediately upon accidentally 
losing its tail feathers, which consti- 
tuted its chief attraction. Fine feath- 
ers not only make fine birds, after the 
old adage, but successful ones in 
love and questions of the heart, and it 
need not be said that these instances 
of faithfulness find their prototypes in 
many lovers of a much higher degree. 


Bv H. N. Rust. 

HOSE who have 
crossed the Ameri- 
can continent in 
imagination only, 
know its desert as 
a yellow patch on 
the map. Those 
who have crossed it in the body will 
recall a vast expanse of sand, level 
and deserted, hot, but not dangerously 
so, yet hot; a region that in its most 
cheerful spots has a grotesque cactus 
vegetation, and in others is devoid of 
growth, and sinks awa}- in depressions 
several hundred feet below the sea. 

The desert between Yuma and the 
mountains of Southern California is 
especially barren, abounding in level 
stretches, and several of the stations 
are two hundred and forty or more feet 
below the level of the sea. The most 
important stations in the desert are 
Salton and Indio; the former being re- 
markable for its salt beds, while the 
latter has earned no little reputation 
as a health resort. Both are in de- 
pressions and literally situated on an 
ancient ocean, or estuary bottom. The 
beds of salt indicate that ages ago the 
ocean covered the locality, and the old 
coast line can be easily traced along 
the edge of the desert, eighty feet 
in height above the present level, 
showing that at one time a vast and 
deep body of water swept over the spot. 
Near Salton the surface is covered for 
miles with a deposit of white shells, 
that gleam and shimmer in the sun- 
light like snow, and in some places 
they are Vjlown up by the sandstorms 
of the desert in winrows. The mean- 
ing of this is that some time in the past, 
as suggested, the locality has been the 
bottom of a large body of water, the 
Avaves of which beat against the fronts 
of the Southern Sierras. 

In walking along the edge of these 
mountains the old water-line can be 
readilv seen, indeed, even from a long 

distance, winding in and out among 
the inequalities of the main range, J 
where it fronts the desert. The most j 
interesting portion of this ancient sea 
is a valley about sixty miles in length 
by fifteen miles wide, through which the 
Southern Pacific Railroad winds its 
way after leaving the Pass of San Gor- 
gonio. This valley is nearly sur- 
rounded by mountains, those on the 
west attaining an altitude of over two 
miles, being snow-capped in winter, 
presenting a magnificent picture as the 
tourist approaches over the dry, sandy 
waste. Deep canyons reach up from 
the beds of the seasonal streams, wind- 
ing up the summits, affording scenery 
of a grand and striking nature. One 
of these canyons is famous for its 
palms, many of these giants being 
seen growing there, fighting for life 
amid the dry and arid surroundings. 
It might be termed the death valley, 
as life is rarely experienced, yet in it 
live the Cahuilla Indians to the num- 
ber of four or five hundred, the tribe 
amounting to nearly one thousand in 
all. AVhy the Indians prefer this hot 
place it is difficult to say; that it is 
healthy there can be but little doubt, 
the great age attained by many of the 
Indians attesting to this. One chief, 
Cabazon, died here in 1848, it is said, 
at the age of one hundred and forty 
years, while many instances are known 
of centenarians. 

To the geologist this valley possesses 
an extreme interest, as the old water- 
line of discolored granite produced by 
calcareous incrustations, can be dis- 
tinctly seen and followed for miles on 
the higher portions of the land above 
water. Many bits of pottery are found 
in high places, telling of ancient occu- 
pation. But perhaps the most remark- 
able and striking evidence of ancient 
occupation in connection with the sea 
are what the Indians call fish-traps, 
which thev claim their forefathers em- 



ployed when the sea was there. The 
''traps" are circular in shape, formed 
on the face of the range, being simple 
depressions surrounded by a wall of 
granite. They are from two and a half 
to nine feet in diameter, and give the 
impression that they were built out at 
low tide, so that as the water came in 
fish would enter and become caught. 
Possibly they may have been pens for 
holding fish caught by the fishermen. 
In any event, they were for some such 
purpose, and are among the'most in- 
teresting features of this ancient sea- 

The few Cahuillas have man}^ tradi- 
tions relating to the sea. one being that 
their ancestors lived upon the fish 
taken here, and that the water sub- 
sided slowly, then came back suddenly, 
drowning large numbers of them. An- 
other tradition of especial interest, 
is that white birds came sailing over 
the sea at this time, bearing little men, 
who, after obtaining permission from 
their ancestors, sailed away. The 
white birds were, in all probability, 
white-sailed ships, but who the people 
were is a question somewhat ditficult 
to answer. The bed of this ancient 
lake, up to the present time, has at- 
tracted the attention of only the curi- 
osity lover who is interested in the fact 
that here is a depression nearly three 
hundred feet deep, and that of the in- 
valids who find conditions here favor- 
able to their requirejuents. 

The earliest authentic information 
regarding this depression is found in 
the Government survey of the sec- 
tion made in 1856. The account de- 
scribes the sink as a dry salt lake with 
a length of twentv-seven miles and a 
width of from one to nine, in all em- 
bracing an area of 156 square miles, 
while the sink receives the drainage 
of at least nine thousand miles of a dry 
and barren country. The old survey 
shows that floods have occurred in 
former years, as marked upon it are 
two channels running from the south, 
one run known as the New River, 
shown in the accompanying map, while 
the other is an irregular broken arroyo, 
that has at one time been the bed of a 

mighty torrent. Near this are found 
the remains of old Indian villages, 
and from the quantity of pottery, 
polishing stones and other objects of 
rude Indian art, it is evident that at 
a time not extremely remote the river 
bed contained a permanent stream, 
upon the banks of which the Indians 
lived. What closed the river might 
appear a mystery, but at Alamos 
^luchos, a few miles south of the 
Mexican line, the old channel is seen 
to have been closed by sand ridges 
that extend east and west across the 
desert, reaching from Indian Wells to 
the high lands of the east. In this case, 
then it was the wind that playing 
fitfully with the sand of the desert, 
blew it up into the barriers, that had 
the effect of depopulating the Indian 
villages and drying up the river by 
stopping the supply. According to 
the investigators sent out by the South- 
ern Pacific road, E. L. Swain and H. 
Hawgood, the sand ridges formed a 
dam impounding the overflow of the 
Colorado, New River, forming a spill- 
way at the western portion of the dam. 
Until last February the spillway has 
been sufficient, but the extraordinary 
flood of that month broke away the 
sand ridges and the water of the Colo- 
rado began to pour into the desert 
through several channels at a rate of 
16,000 cubic feet per second, gradually 
filling the bed of the old lake and creat- 
ing widespread wonder and astonish- 
ment. The Indians were the first to 
take the alarm. Remembering the old 
tradition of the destruction of their 
forefathers they packed up and left for 
the mountains, some going high up on 
the lofty slopes near Banning. To in- 
crease their excitement and fear, one 
of their prophets or medicine men an- 
nounced that the INIessiah was coming, 
and that he would cause a flood to 
rush into the valley and destroy the 
last of the nation. The Indians are very 
superstitious and it did not require 
much urging on the part of the medi- 
cine men to cause a panic, and at the 
time of writing many are in camp on 
the uplands waiting for the flood. The 
possible advance of the water upon the 

■ V'-^ ^ - \ V ' ;'"••.'•••"' I'lV* ^- 1'/'. j.»""/, ^^^ 

/.■i 'J', cvo Cu :> /- 

jMap of Salton Sea. 



Southern Pacific Railroad Diade in- 
vestigation as to the cause necessary. 
A boat was carried from the Pacific, 
over one hundred miles, and several 
venturesome mariners started out on 
a voyage of discovery under a sun that 
gave 1 40°. They sailed forty miles but 
could not find the limit, and fearing 
that they might become stranded they 
gave it up and returned. A half-breed 
Indian was then sent out to run around 
the lake and find out its dimensions, 
but he returned in a few days almost 
exhaustel, saying that he could not 
go around it, the extent of surface 
being too great. The boat was again 
put out and the depth and saltness of 
the water taken at various points. The 
lake was found to have a maximum 
' depth of about three feet, while cur- 
rents appeared to run in all directions. 
The most extravagant rumors were 
started as to the cause. Some believed 
that an earthquake was causing water 
to flow up through some. subterranean 
springs. Others thought that the 
waters of the Gulf of California were 
fiowing in. Several expeditions were 
organized — and the adventurous edi- 
tor of the Banning Herald^ H. W. 
Patton, succeeded in sailing from 
Yuma to Salton, covering the entire 
'length of what is now called the Sal- 
ton sea — the trip being made under 
somewhat remarkable circumstances, 
and requiring no little hardihood, 
as the voyagers did not know where 
they were going, the channel presum- 
ably abounding in whirlpools and 
sandbars. Mr. Patton made the at- 
tempt as chief of an expedition or- 
ganized b\'' the San Francisco Ex- 
aminer and sailed from Yuma in a 
temperature of 112° in the shade, 
enough in itself to have deterred 
most men. They left the Colorado, 
fourteen miles below Yuma, the boat 
turning into a wild slough. For 
ten miles they drifted then finding a 
village of Sigeno Indians. For four- 
teen miles they followed the slough 
which took them into a laguna or lake 
formed b}" the overflow of the Colo- 
rado, and there they saw one of the 
sources of the trouble. At or near 

Sigeno the water was leaving the la- 
guna and flowing in innumerable 
streams due west, making its way to 
the desert. Near here a bar was form- 
ing in the Colorado, which was sugges- 
tive of an ultimate important change in 
the river bed. The desert here re- 
sembled the delta of a river, islands 
and bars of sand appearing on every 
hand, while the water, with a depth 
of twelve feet, rushed on, creating a 
continual change in the surroundings. 
Groves of mesquite trees were passed 
deeply submerged, only their tops 
showing, and not far from here the old 
Yuma and San Diego stageroad Avas 
passed with a depth of fifteen feet of 
water over it. The river took them to 
the south of Cooks' Wells and Gard- 
ners, and gradually spread out into 
a vast lake. They passed the old 
stage station. Alamos Muchos, having 
sailed over one hundred and fifty miles 
in making the fifty-two, as the crow 
flies, from Yuma, the stream here being 
half a mile wide and at least twenty 
feet deep. From the old stage station 
they sailed north, meeting ten miles 
away another large stream. The 
stream varied, now being narrow or 
spreading out into a lake so wide that 
its borders could not be seen. Rem- 
nants of human occupation were often 
ipassed, old camps, broken wagons, de- 
serted on the desert, possibly by men 
who were dying for a drink of the 
flood that was now rolling by and lick- 
ing up the dry sands that had been 
baking for years. For ten miles or 
more the stream turned east and ap- 
parently carried them toward Yuma 
again; then it suddenly broke through 
a sandliank and spread out over the 
desert, flowing in a northerly direc- 
tion, and covering the desert as far as 
the eye could see. Drifting along they 
came to a place where several streams 
joined forces, forming a series of falls; 
then came more lakes and streams. At 
some points the banks were 300 or 400 
feet high, showing that the water had 
cut through in former years. Great 
masses of sand and earth were continu- 
ally falling from the banks, crashing 
into the water, that was here rough and 



abounding in dangerous whirlpools, one 
of which completely capsized the frail 
craft, rolling it over and over, destroy- 
ing much of their provisions. A lake at 
least twenty miles square was found, 
from the surface of which protruded 
the tops of mesquite trees. For twenty 
miles the expedition followed this river, 
meeting upon its banks Mr. E. L. 
Swaine's expedition, sent out by di- 
rection of C. P. Huntington, president 
of the Southern Pacific road, who was 
making investigations for the bene- 
fit of the Bureau of Irrigation Inquiry 
of the Agricultural Department at 
Washington. A few miles farther on 
the roar of a waterfall struck the ears 
of the explorers, and coming to it they 
found a sheer fall of eighteen feet. 
This stopped their progress, and the 
fiat-bottomed boat was landed upon 
the bank. There a singular occurrence 
took place, illustrating the rapidity 
with which the earth or sand washed 
away. The party camped here all 
night, and in the morning found that 
the falls had traveled half a mile up 
the stream, leaving their boat in com- 
paxatively smooth water, but with ve- 
locity that carried them forty miles or 
more, at a rate altogether too rapid for 
pleasure. This was the last experience, 
as the stream led into Salton lake, 
where losing the current, they drifted 
aimlessly, and finally became stranded 
in the mud, a predicament which the 
plucky chief, Mr. Patton, had antici- 
pated and dreaded. Out of the boat 
they jumped, sinking waist-deep in 
qviicksand, and began pushing their 
frail craft along under the terrific heat 
of the sun 120° to 130°, which sent 
clouds of vapor upward, telling of the 
enormous evaporation. The advent- 
urers landed in many places en route, 
and with a Kodak, took pictures of de- 
serted Indian villages, the falls of New 
River and various points of interest, 
and finally reached the »Salt Works in 
safety, after having made one of the 
pluckiest voyages ever attempted in 

The trip of Mr. Patton, made in the 
interest of the Examiner, was one of dis- 
covery and adventure. This was fol- 

lowed up by the party previously re- 
ferred to, organized by the Southern 
Pacific Company. The latter made 
many interesting observations that will 
be especially valuable from a scientific 
standpoint. They settled the question 
of danger to the Southern Pacific road, 
showing conclusively that the water 
would have to rise at least ten feet 
above its highest point before it en- 
croached at all upon the line of the 
road. The formation of the desert sea 
was so startling that many sensational 
stories went abroad, and west-bound 
tourists were led to believe that there 
was danger. On the contrary, the road 
is perfectly safe, is ten feet above and 
not near the sea, which in point of 
fact adds materially to the interest in 
the desert, and will undoubtedly at- 
tract much attention during the com- 
ing winter from the tourists. 

The Southern Pacific expedition 
started July 1 1 from Fleming Wells in 
a mule team to investigate the borders 
of the sea. After a number of attempts 
they succeded in getting a rope across 
the river and transported their instru- 
ments over on a boat made of two air- 
tight kegs and the endgate of a wagon, 
and fully examined the adjacent coun- 
try, which resulted in a number of in- 
teresting aud valuable tables. They 
found that the highest water in the 
Colorado was thirty-three feet in Feb- 
ruary, 1891. The flow at Yuma, with 
a twenty-foot gauge in July, 1891, was 
35,000 cubic feet per second. The wa- 
ter first appeared at Salton June 22. 
Other interesting points are found in 
the following tables: 


Lowest elevation of . Southern Pacific 
track, underside of ties, 257.9 feet below sea 

Length of track 267.9 feet to 250 feet below 
sea level, 28.4 miles. 

Length of track 250 feet to 200 feet below 
sea level, 9 miles. 

Length of track 200 feet to 1.50 feet below 
sea level, 6.9 miles. 

Length of track 150 feet to 100 feet below 
sea level, 6.8 miles. 

Length of track 100 feet to 50 feet below 
sea level, 5.8 miles. 

Length of track -50 feet below sea level, 4.4 

Total mileage below sea level 60.3 miles. 

Lowest toes of railway bank slopes at a 
few narrow points west of Salton, 271 feet. 



Lowest toes of slopes in general across low 
o-round east and west of Salton, 270 feet. 

Bottom of lake at lowest point about 3 
miles south of end of salt spur, 280.8 feet. 


Evaporations measured by means of a 
floating can. Humidity determined by dry 
and wet bulb methods. 


July 6.. 
July 7.. 
July 8.. 
July 9. . 
July 22. 
July 22. 
July 22. 
July 2.S. 
July 24. 
July 25. 
July 27. 
July 29. 
Au?. 7 . 
Aug. 10. 
Aug. 13. 
Aug. 14. 


7;00 A. M. 
7:00 A. M. 
8:00 A. M. 
8:00 A. M. 
7:30 A. M. 
9:45 p. M. 
1:00 p. M. 
1:00 P. M. 
1 :00 P. M. 
1:00 p. M. 
1:00 A. M. 
1:00 p. M. 
1:00 p. M. 
1:05 p. M. 
1:45 P. M. 
1 :45 P. M. 

Inches Humid- 
Wind, evap'rtd ity 

in 24 hrs. per cent. 

iS. light 
S. lifrht 

[S. light 
S. light 






S. E. light 


8. light 


S. light 

S. brisk 

S. light 


S.W. strong 




The notes of the photographer, 
which I sent out at the request of The 
Californian, are of interest. He writes: 

I took the overland train from Ban- 
ning to Yuma, arriving there at four 
o'clock in the morning, and by the 
time I had my plates changed for mak- 
ing photographs of the river at this 
place it was daylight. After breakfast 
I started to look around the place and 
form some idea about how much 
water there was in the river, and as 
near as I could judge it was some three 
hundred feet wide and from ten to 
twenty-five feet deep, and running very 
swiftly. Certainly an abundance of 
water to fill the whole of California up 
in time, and I learned from residents 
of Yuma that the Colorado River had 
l)een lower this year than for a number 
of years back. 

The gentlemen of Yuma have a novel 
way of keeping cool, wearing shirts 
similar to the ladies' Mother Hubbard, 
and wearing them loose, excepting 
when the train comes in. The shirt is 
made of cloth something like mosquito 
bar, and certainly looks quite cool. 

After making some views of the river 
from the Yuma bridge I left Yuma 
for Salton Station. 

Salton Station has two houses and a 
depot and five inhabitants. The Chi- 

nese cook is one of the most prominent 
men in the camp, as he is an exception- 
ally fine cook, and as eating is the only 
pleasure at Salton, he is a great favor- 
ite with everyone who goes there. Mr. 
Durbrow, the General Manager, Super- 
intendent and one of the principal 
stockholders of the New Liverpool Salt 
Company, is one of the finest gentle- 
men I ever met on the desert. He came 
to Salton some years ago a consump- 
tive, whom the physicians had given 
up to die. They told him he might get 
well if he would go down on the des- 
ert. Well, to-day you see in him a 
man who can stand more heat and 
work than any man in his employ; ;i 
perfect picture of health, and to look 
at him you would never imagine he 
had ever been sick a day in his life. 

Mr. Converse is the captain of the 
Examiner exploring expedition, and 
has lived on the desert for a long time, 
trapping and prospecting on the Colo- 
rado River. The first impression ob- 
tained when you arrive in Salton is 
that you are in San Diego or Catalina 
Island: nothing but water as far as 
3^011 can see. 

Salton sea proper is from twenty to 
twenty-five miles wide and about forty- 
five miles long, covering many thou 
sand acres of ground that was never 
meant for anything else than a great 
inland sea, or an extension of the Gulf 
of California. 

Going down to the beach, about five 
hundred feet from the depot, I found 
the sea strewn with newly sawed 
lumber, coming from hundreds of 
miles up the Colorado River, at the 
sawmills. The Southern Pacific Rail- 
road switch was covered with water 
from two and a half to four feet deep, 
and about two miles out in the lake 
you can see the smokestack of one of 
the salt company's engines. 

Dr. Murray of Palm Valley told lue 
that an old Indian on his ranch stated 
that his father said the whole valley 
used to be damp and have a fine fresh- 
water lake down in the basin around 
Salton, but the sea came in and drowned 
all the cattle, and after the sea dried up 
it left a great deposit of salt and killed 



all the grass, and has never been of 
any use since. 

Standing at Salton and looking 
all around you, and seeing the former 
outline of the old sea line, and knowing 
you are two hundred and seventy feet 
below the sea, certainly makes one a lit- 
tle nervous ; I was probably made more 
so from the fact that all the Indians had 
left the salt works as soon as they saw 
the water coming in; so also did Mr. Dur- 
brow's mules, which had neverbefore left 
camp, but now it is impossible to keep 
them there without tying them. Mr. 
Durbrow was very anxious to keep the 
Indians at the salt works, but how to do 
so he did not know. Finally he thought 
of a little strategy that worked well. He 
sent for the chief, and asked him to go 
and get him a lot of squaws, as squaws 
were not afraid. He said he did not 
want men; they were no good; they 
were cowards, so he preferred squaws. 
Squaws "heap brave." Well, it worked. 
An Indian's only pride is his bravery, 
and to be compared to a squaw had the 

desired effect. They came back, firmly 
believing they would be drowned, but 
determined to show the white men they 
were not afraid. And to see these men 
at work piling salt, the thermometer 
standing one hundred and twenty in the 
shade, and every Indian perspiring so 
much you would imagine there was a 
garden hose playing on them all the 
time was interesting. 

But one remarkable thing was to 
see those Indians, every one working 
with his face toward the gulf, expect- 
ing every moment to see the water 
come in a great body and fill up the 
entire basin, aiid wanting to get the 
first notice, so as to be in time to get 
away; if it was positively necessary to 
have their back in that direction, and to 
see them turn every moment and look 
in that direction, with a scared look 
on their faces was as good as a play. 
Mr. Durbrow stays by them all the 
time, knowing if he left for a moment 
they would become panic-stricken, and 
would leave for the mountains again. 













By John T. Ellis. 

THE entire country has been watch- 
ing with interest during the past 
few weeks the operations of the little 
party of scientific men who have been 
carrying on a most novel series of ex- 
periments on the Llano Estacado of 
Western Texas, in the audacious at- 
tempt to compel Dame Nature to send 
rains upon that thirsty land at their 
will and bidding. The result of these 
investigations promises such great bene- 
fits to the agricultural classes that the 
farmers and ranchmen throughout the 
entire West have watched their progress 
with as much interest as has the scien- 
tific world. The prosperity of the ag- 
ricultural classes means the prosperity 
of the country at large; and if it is pos- 
sible to eliminate the greatest evil 
which annually threatens the farmer 
of the West — a long drought when the 
crops most need rain — then certainly 
it is to the interest of the people at 
large to make every effort possible to 
bring about that result. 

Ever since the close of the civil war 
one man has steadily and persistently 
advanced the theory that it is possible 
to effect atmospheric conditions by arti- 
ficial means, and that rainfall can be 
produced or increased by the concus- 
sions of heavy cannonading. This man 
is an enthusiast upon the subject, and 
he has spent a score of years and much 
money in disseminating his views and 
calling the attention of public men to 
their importance. No amount of ridi- 
cule could discourage him — his object 
was to benefit mankind, and with this 
worthy project in view he steadily 
persevered. This man is Edward Pow- 
ers of Delavan, Wis., a civil engineer 
of wide experience nnd observation. 
In 1871 he published a book entitled 
" War and the Weather," in which, by 
a collection of very interesting statistics, 
he showed that in almost every in- 
stance great battles in which there has 
been heavy cannonading have been 

followed by copious rains. A notable 
instance to which he called attention 
was the battle of Buena Vista, which 
was fought on the 22d and 2od of Febru- 
ary, 1847. This was in the midst of the 
dry season in Mexico and there had 
been no rain for several months before 
the battle. The occurrences upon the 
second day at Buena Vista, as stated 
by Bvt. Maj. Gen. H. W. Benham of 
the United States Engineer Corps, were 
as follows: From 8 to 9 in the morn- 
ing of that day the artillery was en- 
gaged in heavy cannonading, after 
which, between 11 and 12 o'clock "a 
most violent shower of rain fell." 
Again in the afternoon the artillery 
reopened fire and again, after an inter- 
val of about two hours, " another vio- 
lent shower fell." " And what was posi- 
tive proof to me that these rains were 
the direct result of the artillery firing," 
writes General Benham, "was that no 
rain had fallen, as I was informed, for 
a number of months before this battle — 
I was told eight months, and none fell 
for three months after the battle, as I 
hiem was the case, as I remained at the 
same station during that time." 

The battles of Palo Alto, Molino del 
Rey, Cherubusco, Monterey and Che- 
pultepec were also fought in the dry 
season, and each was followed by heavy 
rains. So it was with nearly every bat- 
tle in the Mexican war, and so it was, 
according to the record which Mr. 
Powers has been at great pains to ver- 
ify, with over two hundred battles of 
the late civil war in this country, in- 
cluding every important engagement. 
It is a formidable array of historical 
facts which Mr. Powers has brought 
together to support his theory, and it 
M^as his collection of these and his un- 
tiring eflbrts which primarily drew at- 
tention to the matter. It is but right, 
therefore, that the credit should be 
given to Mr. Powers for his zealous 
study of this question in behalf of the 



farmer. That his motives were entirely 
unselfish is clearly shown by the fol- 
lowing extract from his book : " The art 
of regulating the weather to some extent, 
if such an art should ever be acquired, 
is not one on which a patent could 
be obtained, nor would the business be 
one in which a monoply could ever be 
exercised by an individual. The ex- 
periments, when they are made, as 
eventually they certainly will be, 
should be made at the public expense, 
for, in the event of their success, it is 
the public which will be benefited." 

" If, however, Mr. Powers' theories 
are correct, and, in view of the experi- 
mental tests which have lately been 
made, there can be little doubt on 
that score, he should go down in his- 
tory in the front rank of that noble 
army of philanthropists who have 
devoted their lives for the benefit of 
their fellow men. The principles 
upon which Mr. Powers based his 
theories are those generally accepted 
by scientists as to the formation of 
clouds and the origin of rainstorms. 
The most important principle is 
clearly stated by Professor Silliman 
in his "Principles of Physics," as fol- 

" Pvain is generally produced by the 
rapid union of two or more volumes of 
humid air diflering considerably in 
temperature, the several portions 
when mingled, being incapable of ab- 
sorbing the same amount of moisture 
that each would retain if they had not 
united. If the excess is great it falls 
as rain; if it is of a slight amount it 
appears as a cloud. The production 
of rain is the result of the law that the 
capacity of air for moisture decreases 
in a higher ratio than the tempera- 

Now, it is known that over a large 
portion of the United States there is 
constantly flowing from southwest to 
northeast a vast current of humid air, 
bearing the moisture which has been 
evaporated from the Pacific Ocean. 
This enormous stream of ac^ueous 
vapor is called the equatorial current. 
There is also another aerial stream 
called the polar current flowing over 

this country from the northeast in a 
direction nearly opposite to the equa- 
torial current, which is invariably of 
a much cooler temperature than the 
latter. In the western portion of the 
United States the equatorial current 
flows uninterrupted in its course, but 
about the time it reaches the Missis- 
sippi Valley it comes in conflict with 
the cooler air of the polar current, and 
storms are generated by their ming- 
ling as described by Professor Silli- 

Applying this principle to the effect 
of cannon-firing Mr. Powers contended 
that the concussions produced by the 
cannonading deflected one of these 
currents from its course, and, from the 
mingling of the currents which fol- 
lowed, the storms which so invariably 
succeeded a battle resulted. Moreover, 
Mr. Powers held that this result could 
be effected at any chosen time by a 
series of heavy volleys of artillery- 

It was Mr. Powers' plan for Con- 
gress to vote an appropriation sulfi- 
cient for defraying the expense of tak- 
ing 200 siege guns from the United 
States Armory at Rock Island, 111., 
to some dry region of the West 
and there firing one hundred rounds of 
blank cartridges from them. The esti- 
mated expense of such an experiment 
was so great (.t80,000), however, that 
Congress took no action in the mat- 

In 1876, General Daniel PvUggles of 
Fredricksburg, Va., advanced the 
proposition that instead of firing can- 
non on the ground, explosives be car- 
ried to a considerable height by 
means of balloons, and there exploded 
in the midst of the upper air currents 
which it was desired to affect. By this 
means a great conservation of force 
would be effected and the effect a great 
battle would have upon the upper cur- 
rents could be reproduced at a com- 
paratively small expense. General 
Ruggles succeeded in securing patent 
rights upon his plan of elevating the 
explosives, but it subsequently trans- 
pired that the scheme had already 
been fullv described in a Chicago 



paper, which copied an article on the 
subject from the Mimora (New Zea- 
land) Star, and so General Ruggles' 
letters patent became worthless. 

However, the economy of expense 
effected by General Ruggles' sugges- 
tion made it possible to bring the mat- 
ter before the consideration of Con- 
gress and this was done several years 
ago by Hon. C. B. Farwell of Chicago, 
who had long been interested in the 

In 1890, Mr. Farwell obtained an 
appropriation of $2,000 for use by the 
Department of Agriculture in investi- 
gating the subject, and the last Con- 
gress added $7,000 to this amount for 
a series of practical experiments in 
the West. 

General R. G. Dyrenforth, a well- 
known Washingtonian of broad scien- 
tific attainments, Avas appointed by 
Secretary Rusk to prosecute these in- 
vestigations, and during the last five 
months he, in companv with Dr. 
Claude A. O. Rosellof the Patent Office 
and other Eastern scientists, having 
been making a careful study of the 
subject and planning apparatus and 
.methods of operation. Among the 
improvements and innovations sug- 
gested by these gentlemen M^as the use 
of explosive gases in balloons, instead 
of the raising of heavy explosives with 
lifting balloons, thus economizing on 
the first expense of apparatus and 
greatly reducing the cost of explosives. 
The gas proposed is a mixture of oxy- 
gen and hydrogen in the proportion of 
one to two, which constitutes one of 
the most violent explosives known to 

On August 5, 1891, General Dyren- 
forth arrived at Midland, Texas, a 
small desert station on the Llano Es- 
tacado, having a carload of apparatus 
and materials for the manufacture of 
explosives, and accompanied by a 
party of distinguished scientists, among 
whom were Mr. Edward Powers and 
Dr. C. A. 0. Rosell. The apparatus 
was set up on the "C" ranch, twenty-five 
miles north of IMidland, where the ex- 
pedition was entertained as guests of the 
owner, Mr. Nelson Morris of Chicago. 

In reaching the ranch the party was 
driven over miles of brown, parched 
prairie land, where an allowance of 
twenty acres to one head of cattle 
offered but a scant subsistence. Scrubby 
mesquite brush and a cactus here and 
there is the only vegetation that breaks 
the monotony of the scattered clumps 
of mesquite grass on these plains, 
while the sole water supply is obtained 
by windmill pumps and bored wells. 
No rain had fallen in this locality for 
three months, and little for three years 

It was with a full knowledge of these 
conditions, and because they wished 
to experiment in a region where they 
could not be deceived by coincidences, 
that General Dyrenforth and his party 
came to this locality. 

The three principal operations were 
made upon August 9th, 18th and 25th, 
respectively, while an almost contin- 
ual " skirmish " of light explosions 
was maintained during the intervals 
between these dates, in order to keep 
the weather in an unsettled condition, j 
During the seventeen days of the ex- i 
periments three heavy rains, of several 
hours duration, fell upon the "C" 
ranch — one following by a few hours 
each of the three principal operations, 
and light showers fell almost daily 
during the continuance of the light 

The method of operation was as fol- 
lows: Balloons often and twelve-foot 
diameter, capable of containing six 
hundred and one thousand cubic feet 
of gas each, respectively, were first 
filled one-third full of oxygen gas by 
connecting them with retorts contain- 
ing chlorate of potash and a small 
quantity of binoxide of manganese. 
When these retorts are subjected to in- 
tense heat in gasoline furnaces con- 
structed for the purpose, the potash is 
melted and passes off in the form of 
oxygen gas. The gas is made to pass 
through water charged with lime and 
caustic soda to cleanse it from clearine 
and other dangerous impurities, and 
then passes into the balloon. When 
a balloon has received a sufficient 
amount of oxygen it is detached from 
the retorts and connected by pipes 



with the hydrogen generators, which 
consist of large tanks containing water 
and several hundred pounds of cast 
iron borings on the bottom. Into these 
tanks sulphuric acid is decanted from 
glass carboys, or lead-lined drums, 
and by its action the water is decom- 
posed into its elementary gases — hy- 
drogen and oxygen. The iron takes 
up the latter, allowing the hydrogen 
to escape through a wash-barrel of lime 
water into the balloon. When the in- 
flation of the balloon is completed an 
electric cap is inserted in the neck, in- 
sulated Avires are attached and the bal- 
loon is allowed to rise to a height of 
one to three thousand feet. When it 
has reached the desired altitude the 
wires are connected with the binding 
posts of a dynamo discharger, the 
handle of the machine is pressed down, 
an electric current speeds along the 
wire and explodes the cap. Suddenly 
the balloon is transformed into a ball 
of flaming fire, which instantly ex- 
pands to mammoth proportions, and 
then as suddenly vanishes, leaving a 
thousand small fragments of the bal- 
loon envelope floating away on the 
breeze. They did not have time to ig- 
nite, the flash was so sudden, and if we 
followed them till they fluttered to the 
ground should find that the white 
cloth had not even been blackened in 
the least. Hardly has the observer 
recovered his breath from the grand- 
ness of the spectacle when the tre- 
mendous explosion comes rushing over 
him, a mighty tidal wave of sound, 
which shakes the earth with its con- 
cussion, and rolls thundering off over 
the distant swells of the prairie. 

While the balloons are being filled 
and exploded large quantities of dyna- 
mite and rackarock powder are being 
fired in heavy charges at various points 
on the plains, and at each explosion, 
though it may be a mile away, the 
force of the concussion flattens in the 
sides of the balloons and they flap out 
again with a sharp snap against the 

The commotion is kept up for sev- 
eral hours, and as yet rain has not once 
failed to folloiv. 

On the day of the last experiment at 
the " C " ranch, the 2.5th of August, at 
half-past three in the afternoon, the 
barograph or registering barometer was 
describing the usual curve, indicating 
" dry " 'weather for the next twenty- 
four hours, while the wet and dry 
bulb hygrometer, a very accurate in- 
strument — brought from the Weather 
Bureau Instrument Room at Washing- 
ton — showed a relative humidity of 
only 16 out of a possible 100 — a most 
unusual and unfavorable condition. 
The humidity at that locality gener- 
ally ranges from 4-5 to 65, while in San 
Francisco a humidity of 80 to 90 is 
not a very unusual occurrence. The 
day was clear and the Weather Bureau 
foretold fair weather for that region. 
Every indication and condition was as 
unfavorable as could be found. 

At noon of the 2.5th the firing was 
begun. Balloons were sent up at in- 
tervals of about one hour during the 
aft?rnoon, while heavy charges of dyna- 
mite and rackarock were fired at shorter 
intervals upon the ground. Altogether 
about 600 pounds of ground explosives 
and 3000 cubic feet of oxyhydrogen gas 
was used. 

The firing ceased at 11 p. m. and at 
3 A. M. the experimenters were awak- 
ened b}'- the flash of lightning and 
crash of thunder. The rain fell in tor- 
rents from 4:30 to 8 o'clock a. m., and 
the night operator at Midland station 
said he never had seen so much light- 
ning before. Altogether this last ex- 
periment was a grand success and 
demonstrated almost beyond a ques- 
tion the practicability of the artificial 
production of rainfall in the most arid 

The expedition has now removed its 
apparatus to El Paso, Texas,* where, at 
the time of this writing, preparations 
are being made to proceed with the 
experiments before a large gathering 
of prominent citizens of Texas, Ari- 
zona and Xew Mexico and a distin- 
guished commission of Mexican offi- 
cials and scientists from Chihuahua 
and the Mexican capital. As General 

* These experiments have been followed by rain 
in almost every instance. — Ed. 



Dyrenforth's party drove from the 
" C " ranch to the station at Mid- 
land the appearance of the country 
formed a pleasing contrast to their 
first view of the staked plains. In- 
stead of stirring up clouds of choking 
dust the carriages spun lightly over 
a moist and hard-packed road, while 

in place of the brown and barren des- 
ert, Avhich had given them comfortless 
welcome on their arrival, a green 
meadow stretched out in every direc- 
tion as far as the eye could reach, 
promising comfort to the ranchman's 
herds and forming a scene of solitary 

THOSE who are in a position to judge, who 
can grasp the situation as presented by 
the Pacific slope as a whole, cannot fail to be 
impressed by the fact, that, while this region 
has been prominently before the nations of 
the world for years as an important commer- 
cial and industrial center, it has, in point of 
fact, just begun its actual development, and 
during the next decade is going to make the 
real advancement which shall make it an 
empire in all the name implies. From one 
end of the Pacific Coast to the other, growth, 
development of resources and increase in 
values is apparent, and when it is considered 
that Oregon, Washington and extreme South- 
ern California have but recently passed 
through a remarkable period of inflation, 
the growth is more remarkable. The trav- 
eler from the East or Europe has read of the 
" boom " and its dire results, but on visiting 
the west coast cities nothing but prosperity 
is noticeable, the truth being, that while 
property was rated high, the climate and 
agricultural possibilities in the various re- 
gions are extremely favorable for the main- 
tenance of a large population, and new set- 
tlers are pouring in from every land under 
the sun. The A^alue of land maj^ have been 
exaggerated, but the possibilities of the Pa- 
cific slope have not been, and this is the 
magnet that will, in a few years, build up a 
competitor to the East in every branch of 
industry, art, science or trade. 

The article in the present issue by H. 
N. Rust, U. S. Indian Agent, is of pe- 
culiar interest, describing as it does one 
of the most interesting and remarkable 
events of the century — the return of 
water into what is evidently the bed 
of an ancient sea of no little magnitude. 
The overflow has made a large lake in the 
Colorado desert, but whether it will remain 
is a question that can hardly be decided at 
present. The point of especial interest is 
whether the enormous evaporation will re- 

sult m a change of climate in Southern Cali- 
fornia, giving San Diego and San Bernardino 
counties a damper climate in summer and 
possibly a colder one in winter. Authorities 
ditter on this point, but either the sea has af- 
fected the country inthe vicinity of San Gor- 
gonio,or we may chronicle a remarkable and 
singular coincidence The present season 
at Beaumont and in the adjacent moun- 
tains has been marked by phenomena never 
observed before by the oldest inhabitant. 
It is true that Southern California has light 
showers every summer and masses of clouds 
are seen along the mountains, but cloud- 
bursts and terrific rains have been iinknown 
up to the present time. During twenty-four 
days, ending August 15, there were not less 
than five cloudbursts, while rain fell every 
day at Seven Palms, that prior to the ap- 
pearance of the lake has been exempt from 
rain storms at this season. The tempera- 
ture has been remarkably low, and severe 
storms have been the rule. To those who are 
familiar with the country there is something 
more than coincidence in this. Whether 
the Salton sea will become permanent can 
only be settled by time, but if there is any 
possibility of its interfering with the pride 
of the south, its climate, we may expect to 
see an army of Southern Californians march- 
ing on the Colorado break, to turn the water 
back into the original channel. 

Concerning the report that the land on the 
desert was sinking, thus allowing the water 
to pour in from the gulf, the explanation 
given by Mr. Rust in a personal letter to the 
editor is interesting. He says: "My own be- 
lief for years is that the entrance from the 
gulf into this desert basin was closed by 
natural causes, principally the debris of 
the Colorado at high water forming a bar 
across the inlet from the gulf, shutting out 
tide water. At low water the winds may 
have raised this bar still higher, thus form- 
ing a dam suflacient to keep the gulf water 

oca vr t 

Colorado. Should this bring the level of the 
new sea to that, or near that of the old sea, as 
it will iDe likely to, when the great overflow 
of the Gila and Colorado occur, a small ex- 
cavation of the bar which now excludes tide 
water would permit the tide to come in 
and the overflow of the Colorado and Gila 
would run into Salton lake, and so on to the 
ocean. This, I believe to be a desirable end. 
General J. C. Fremont and others have urged 
that this be accomplished by the help of Gov- 
ernment. Wise men without knowledge have 
told us it Avas impossible— that evaporation 
would cause all the water of the Colorado, if 
turned onto the desert to disappear. Nature 
and the Colorado have proven the fallacy of 
such statements. I believe it very desirable 
that these Avaters should cover the desert. ' 
That no party except the salt works 
and the Southern Pacific Railroad would 
be damaged by it, and an immense 
area of land and mountain waste would 
be benefited by it; its climatic influ- 
ences maybe supposed to be beneficial and 
very wide in extent, far outreaching the 
damage done to the railroad and salt works. 
The railroad Avould only be obliged to re- 
move some miles of track over an inexpen- 
sive, nearly level country, and the discom- 
fort of desert travel Avould be a thing of the 
past. Local business Avould soon make up 
to the road the loss of the §iO,000 annually 
received by them for transporting the salt, 
and neAv salt mines are abundant between 
this line of road and the Santa Fe line in the 
Mojave district, north. The foolish state- 
ments made by rival roads East, of the 
danger to travelers coming to Califor- 
nia by the Southern Pacific Railroad on 
account of this great natural phenom- 
ena have no foundation in fact. On the 
contrarj', every lover of nature will be in- 

13 Lo present the indulgent reading public, 
each month, Avith an array of articles, all of 
Avhich have been studiously rejected iiy ed- 
itors of other magazines, the idea being to 
shoAv the amount of good things Avhich are 
lost to the reading public each year, and, 
perhaps, pluck some shining literary light 
from possible oblivion. This is an ingen- 
ious scheme. The magazine could possibly 
exist on a subscription list of the 100,000 or 
more disappointed contributors, but Avhy 
not act on a suggestion Avhich the Avriter 
heard discussed? It Avas proposed to estab- 
lish a publication reversing ihe order of 
things. Instead of paying for articles, the 
editor would charge for them. Thus the ed- 
itor Avould Avrite: "The Polyglot accepts 
your article for publication. The charge for 
insertion Avill be §10 per page. Fifty copies of 
the number containing your article Avill be 
sent you on publication." The advantages 
of this are evident. The thousand and one 
contributors Avho cannot Avrite, but merely 
desire to see their names in print, Avill be 
gratified. Circulation need not be pushed 
by the publisher, as the copies Avould be 
given aAvay. Each Avriter Avould naturally, 
to satisfy his pride, give away a large num- 
ber ; hence, a circulation Avould be obtained, 
nolens A'olens, and, as a result, the magazine 
AA'ould have a certain A-alue to the adver- 
tisers. This idea is commended to the orig-' 
inator of the rejected manuscript plan. 

It was generally supposed that slavery 
AA-as abolished in America years ago, but the 
fact remains that Avherever the Chinese have 
obtained a footing, Avomen and children are 
bought and sold, and treated in a manner 
that Avould put to shame the Avorst details of 
ante-bellum negro slaverj\ In San Fran- 
cisco a little band of God-fearing Avomen are 
fighting this evil single-handed and alone. 

able is tne o/jjecw 

The number of individuals in the United 
States who are continually starting new pub- 
lications, and who think they can succeed 
Avhere others tail, is somewhat remarkable. 
A correspondent in Tombstone, Arizona, 
asks the advice of The Californian as to 
the chance for anew weekly in SanFrancisco, 
where The Wave, The Argonaut and several 
others well fill the field. The incident illus- 
trates the fact that, in many instances, peo- 
ple in looking for openings in business fail 
to observe opportunities in their immediate 
vicinities, which, if taken at the flood may 
lead on to success and many subscribers. 
To the Arizonian we would say that the very 
best of openings awaits his acceptance in his 
own town. It is a well-known fact that an 
Eastern publication has, for several years, 
amused itself and its readers by reciting, 
weekly, warlike occurrences in Arizona, 
whicli are supposedly taken from an Ari- 
zona paper, the Arizona Kicker. The 
Kicker is, of course, a figure of the imagina- 
tion, but so industriously has it been worked, 
from every point of the compass, as Mr. 
Pecksniff observed and penciled the famous 
Salisbury Cathedral, that not a few people 
actually believe that the Kicker is a reality. 
The situation at present is that the good peo- 
ple of Arizona are up in arms at this joke 
long drawn out, and it is reported that sev- 
eral tourists have been shot for innocently 

inquiring for a copy of the Kicker while 

the most attractive features of this country 
to the average touris^^. Tho> «i( ''. ';■':, 
American ruins, auci will; like wine, in- 
crease in value as time rolltJ-on. The owner 
of these relics does not appear lo appreciate 
their value, and many :ue slowly going to 
decay. Until w'h!" '^ r-^' weeks the chapel 
of the magnificent old pile, San Juan Capis- 
trano, was a disgrace, the church utterly 
neglecting it. Private parties have now re- 
paired it. San Luis Rey is fast disappearing 
and in a few years will be destroyed. Is 
there not sentiment enough in California to 
create a society for the preservation of the 
missions? They should not be allowed to _ 
fall to decay, and some means should be de- 
vised to put a stop to the vandalism which 
forms a part of their every-day history. 

Proposing gravely to prepare an article 
for The Californian on the Pacific Coast 
defenses provided by the National Govern- 
ment, the writer found it a difficult task, as 
there was from San Francisco to San Diego, 
absolutely nothing to write about. The en- 
tire water front with its valuable cities, 
orchards and ranches, is sans guns, sayis 
troops, sans batteries, sans everything that 
should be, and in the meantime the patient 
dwellers on the Pacific Slope, without Cab- 
inet representation at Washington, are won- 
dering when their investments on this coast 
are to receive adequate protection in case of 

croit History company; me worKs of J. Stu- 
art & Co. and others, all suggest that the time 
is coming when the Pacific slope will, if not 
rival the great Eastern centers of the pub- 
lishing interest, be able to faii-ly compete 
with them in the production of books of a 
high rank, not alone in the literary excel- 
lence, but in the art of production. Among 
the recent publications of The S.Carson Com- 
pany of San Francisco is a little work en- 
titled "Forensic Eloquence," a treatise on 
the theory and practice of oratory that de- 
serves more than passing mention. The au- 
thor, John Goss, A.M., has produced a work 
that is a valuable addition to the literature of 
the subject, and one which should be a use- 
ful adjunct, not only to school work in this 
direction, but to public men and others, who 
are desirous of improving their style in pub- 
lic speaking. The author presents the stu- 
dent and reader with many oratorical gems, 
and says: " My purpose in the present work 
has been to examine each speech by itself, 
and from it alone to obtain safe directions 
for the beginner. Following this plan, it will 
be found that every good speech has a proper 
opening, a clear statement of propositions to 
be discussed, and closes with a well-worded 
peroration. It will be found, also, that these 
three elements go hand in hand together; if 
anyone of them be wanting, the eflFort will 
not be up to the standard of a great speech. 
I have drawn on the greatest orations of an- 
cient and modern times to sustain this view, 
and if the selections do. not bear me out in 
this method, the reader is at liberty to dis- 
card the description and adhere to the 
model." In the ten chapters the subject is 
traced from the eai'liest times until the days 
of Clay and Calhoun, and a forcible presen- 
tation of the subject made. The work can 
be commended without reservation. 

AVili be read as long as any ot tne "Doomers" 
of 1886-88 survive, and by their children after 
them. And in every time of unusually rapid 
growth on this coast it will be read by many, 
and should be read by all, who incline to 
dabble in real estate for speculation. It 
should be read by all who intend to 
invest in real estate anywhere. " Mill- 
ionaires of a Day " stands alone among 
books in California and cannot be classified. 
It is not only the first thorough description 
evei- written of that peculiar phenomenon of 
human nature known as a real estate boom, 
but it lias for its subject what was beyond 
doubt the greatest and craziest boom that 
ever swept over so great an area and ruined 
or crippled so many people who prided them- 
selves on their shrewdness, and who had, in 
fact, been successful in other ways. Al- 
though it describes those times so faithfully 
that every ex-boomer thinks he is especially 
meant by some one of the different charac- 
ters introduced, and though it is so filled with 
warning and good advice to future investors 
as to make it of philosophical as well as his- 
torical value, it is yet so filled with local col- 
oring; California so breathes from every 
page; its advantages, attractions and peculi- 
arities are so interwoven as a background to 
the play, that, as a desci'iption of the country, 
it is scarcely inferior to the author's well- 
known " Southern California," which has 
been so much admired in this country and 
Europe. The style is rapid, yet piquant and 
smooth; the action moves before one like 
that of a attractive panoroma, and the reader 
is unconscious of any effort. The interview 
in the first chapter with the old-time, lazy, 
shiftless settler is a classic in its line, with 
the advantage of literal truth. The book 
should find a place in every library. Fords, 
Howell & Hurlbert, New York, publishers. 

Millionaires op a Day.— There are few 
books of the day which anyone dare say 
will outlive the year of their birth ; but 

Voice Culture and Elocution. By 
William T. Ross, A. M.— Even those who 
are not of the profession, and, there- 



lore, do not surely believe that eloeu- 
tion is the chief end of man, may protit 
largely by a study of this manual. It is not 
an infallible evidence of the value of a book 
that it has passed through several editions, 
but in the case of a text-book the fact may 
be regai'ded as fairly conclusive, and espe- 
cially so in this instance, when the work 
has gone the round of many institutions. 
and received the commendation of elo- 
cutionists themselves who, as a class, are not 
remarkable for their enthusiasm over the 
achievements of their fellows, however well 
pleased they may be over their own and un- 
hesitating in declaiming the fact. The work 
before us is now in its tifth edition. It is in 
large use in schools and colleges, and is likely 
to be still more widely spread as the attention 
to voice-training gains ground. We know 
of no better manual to put into the hands of 
teachers and students than this. We may 
add that no institution of learning can con- 
sider itself entirely, c-ompletely equipped 
that does not provide instruction in elocu- 
tion. Mr. Ross has long been known as an 
earnest and assiduous follower of the nat- 
ural system of cultivating the vocal oi'gans. 
Let him define the idea in his own lan- 
guage: "Elocution," says he, "does not 
consist in mere imitation of the voice and 
manner of the teacher. ... Its province 
is to teach the pupil the art of using the rules 
and exercises of elocution, not as the end 
and aim of the study, Ijut as the means for 
the better expression of thought and emo- 
tion. By such a course of instruction the 
individuality of the student is best pre- 
served." Wise words, these, and to be care- 
fullj^ considered by all professional elocu- 
tionists. Never, it seems, was there greater 
need of the study of certain branches of 
what our author calls " The Artof Vocal and 
Physical Expression" than the present day. 
This must be the case, as society becomes 
moi-e complex and exacting, thought and 
expression to convey thought more varied, 
and when, as is invariably the habit with all 
advance, there is a return movement in this 
instance of loose speaking and inditterent 
articulation. Take reading aloud, for in- 
ample. We might take issue with Mr. Ross 
when he writes under the divisiou:^8tyle l. 
" More practice is needed in the colloquial 
style of reading and speaking than in any 
other." But we entirely agree with him 
when he adds : " There is far too much de- 
' claiming in the declamatory, too much 
dramatic in the drama, and not enough talk- 
ing anywhere." It seems to us that the ten- 
dency of "the colloquial," especially in 
reading, is to get the better of the simple, the 

spontaneous, the natural. Readers, profes- 
sional or otherwise, are prone to emphasize, 
to elucidate, to make plain by stress, man- 
ner or intonation, or in whatever Avay they 
think to impress. They lean too little to 
the listener, or to the imagination, or to the 
text, Avhich, if it is worth reading at all. 
speaks, though it may not articulate, for it- 
self. Under the heading " Emphasis " we 
read: " Emphasis is relative, not absolute. 
There is no such thing as emj^hdftiH, and not 
emphasis in reading and speaking. .1// 
thought that is voiced is relatively crnphatir. 
The difference is only in der/ree.'" We may 
here remark that ^Ir. Ross' directions are 
like these already cited, suggestive, clear, 
and pointed, while his illustrations are 
equally satisfactory. It remains to say a 
word regarding the selections forming near- 
ly one-third of the book under considera- 
tion. It has always seemed to us that in a 
work of this kind, quotations and extracts 
should be of a high literary character. As a 
rule, the standard is well maintained in this 
little volume, although one might wish some 
contrilnitions removed that were, we are 
told, written expresslj- for "Voice Culture." 
The specimens ai-e of that common and un- 
liai)py order whose inspiration is the old 
tramp or some other form of illiteracy, 
wherein the colloquial is pursued in these 
instances to the bitter end. But the com- 
piler doubtless knows his public, and, prob- 
ably, has gathered much material together 
chiefly for purposes of recitation and elocu- 
tionary drill. One finds many old, but still 
most serviceable, pieces of both literary and 
declamatory oratorical value, prose as well 
as verse. Among the newer insertions, one of 
the best from every point of view is Madge 
Morris' " The Golden Gate." The long poem 
entitled " Lasca," by Duprey, like Joaquin 
Miller's early efforts, is full of power and a 
strange pathos. It has the true Western 
flavor, too, though it is not the Californian. 
An admiral )le selection is George McDon- 
ald's " The Wind and the Moon," a charm- 
ing little fantasy, that may be of real benefit 
in more ways than one to the child who has 
to learn to recite it. 

Books on ti^ijiperaiice are not rare, but the 
story of the " Saloon Social Life and the In- 
sane Asylum," by A. C. Rawson, Avill con- 
stitute a new departure in this direction. 
The interest in the work lies in its realism. 
The author was a victim to the habit of alco- 
holism, and while a man of nerve and tine 
business habits became a complete wreck 
and was placed in the asylum at Stockton at 
his own request. When he recovered his 



health and reason, and in these leisure mo- 
ments began to think upon the relation of in- 
temperance to insanity, as illustrated by his 
own case and that of others, the subject grew 
upon him, and seeing an opportunity to do 
good, he wrote the present volume, which is 
a telling sermon in favor of temperance, as 
the actualiexperience of the author. The book 
carries a weight which few books have, and 
becomes at once a valuable medium for tem- 
perance workers. Mr. Rawson deals witli 
the alcohol habit in a way that appeals to 
those who have made a study of the subject 
from a medical standpoint. He assumes that 
a drunken man is insane, and that the habit, 
if continued, must become a taint that can be 
handed down from generation to generation, 
becoming the cause of the same habit, or ii\- 
sanity. The story is graphically told, many 
portions showing fine dramatic feeling and 
expression. The book is unique in its way, 
and a valuable addition to the literature of the 
subject. The volume is handsomely illus- 
trated and bound. It is published by .1. 
Stuart & Co., San Francisco, and sold by 
subscription only. 

Among the Pacific Coast writers, Mr. 
Leigh H. Irvine, author of the " Iron High- 
way," "Labor Problems," and others, is at- 
tracting attention throughout the country, 
by the strong and masterful manner in 
which he is placing the various labor and 
other problems before the people. It is often 
a fact that labor reformers and writers who 
address themselves to the wage-earner fail 
to make themselves understood by the very 
people to whom they appeal. Mr. Irvine is 
ah exception to this, as not only his works 
show, but his public addresses, especially 
the four nights' debates with Nationalists 
and Henry George men, in. Oakland, in this 
State. Mr. Irvine's last book, "The Strug- 

gle for Bread," has already reached the 
welfth thousand edition, and is one of thet 
best and most logical presentations of an 
important subject we have seen. It is rarely 
that we find a man who can write logically 
and gracefully; -who can lend a charm to sta- 
tistics and who is equally at home on the 
rostrum. The decade is one of advance- 
ment all along the line ; it is equally prolific 
in its production of wild-cat schemes, for 
the expansion of human interests, and con- 
sequently the army of theorists and pseudo- 
cranks is a large one. It is refreshing then 
to find, among the younger men, one who 
can represent the rising generation, either 
in the professions or the field of labor, and 
point out in so forcible a manner the 
many fallacies of the day. Mr. Irvine's 
book should be read, and well read, by those 
who take Mr. Bellamy very nmch in earnest 
and who are disposed to devote all their en- 
ergies to the land schemes of Henry George. 
The Struggle for Bread. .John B. Alden, 
New York Publishers. 

Numbers of books on the Sandwich Isl- 
ands have appeared from time to lime, but 
Anne M. Prescott's Hawaii, comes with a 
more than ordinarily fresh aroma of the 
islands of the sea. The author has not writ- 
ten from the standpoint of the tourist who 
has made the regulation trip against time, 
but spent many years in Hawaii, and in a 
little volume, attractively bound, gives the 
impressions of her life in a Igcality that is of 
especial interest to this country. A brief 
history of the island is given in the chapters 
on the various points of interest which whet 
the appetite and increase the desire of the 
reader to visit the spot described. The book 
is neatly printed and is published by the 
San Francisco firm of C. A. Murdock & Co. 

Taking the Hedge and Ditch. 

The Californian. 

Vol. I. 

JANUARY, 1892. 

No. 2. 


By Francis Fenelon Rowland, M. D. 

THE admirer of the 
beautiful in na- 
ture and the lover 
of a good saddle- 
horse there is no 
more ideal spot to 
enjoy both than in 
Southern Califor- 
nia during that 
season very inap- 
propriately called winter ; for, as a 
matter of fact, winter may be said to 
be unknown here except what is seen 
and experienced on the distant snow- 
crowned peaks of the Sierra Madre 
Mountains. The average Californian 
of the south will always claim that 
the summer or the rainless season is 
the choicest time of the entire year for 
enjoyment of the many benefits to be 
had on every hand. This article will 
treat chiefly of that season when stran- 
gers are here in greater numbers and 
ask them to join a party of the Valley 
Hunt, who are out for a cross-country 
ride with their fleet pack of grey- 

Midwinter is selected for the ride, 
taking for granted that the winter 
rains have washed the sky and orange 
groves of dust, leaving such an atmo- 
sphere and landscape that will cause 
the most unromantic to cry out with 
wonder and amazement at the scene 
presented. It is at this time the poet 
becomes the better historian ; for it is 

not possible for the prosaic pen to give 
adequate expression to the surpassing 
grandeur of the landscape. 

The secretary of the club has sent 
each member notice that the dogs will 
be at a certain place at 9 a. m. The 
meet will be on the top of Monk Hill, 
a high elevation rising out of the San 
Gabriel Valley between the mountains 
four miles away towards the north 
and rose-embowered Pasadena toward 
the south, commanding a view of the 
valley in all directions. Long before 
the appointed hour some members and 
invited guests have arrived and spend 
the moments drinking in the health- 
giving air, laden as it is with the 
fragrance of the orange and lemon 
which is wafted from the contiguous 
groves; or, as if nature is not content 
with what art has done, thousands of 
acres on every side as far as the eye 
can reach are covered with the poppy, 
all aglow, lupines and the sweet 
scented wild heliotrope over which the 
hunters will soon be speeding, thrilled 
with joy caused by the novelty of a 
midwinter's gallop over such a carpet 
of flowers. 

It is a ride like this that will give 
the invalid a new lease of life and 
lead him to ask himself the question, 
"All this and heaven too? " 

It is now a few minutes past the 
hour appointed for the start ; but an 
extension of time is asked, because 


some of the more tardj^ members have 
taken a longer nap than usual or have 
stopped to pick a bunch of Marechal 
Niel or a spray of lemon or orange 
blossoms to be presented to the visitor 
who is just being introduced to the 
mar\'els of a cross- couutr}' ride in 

Southern California and will wear a 
corsage bouquet during the chase. 

The master of hounds sounds his 
horn, which in this case is a veritable 
steer-horn mounted with silver. The 
dogs are eager to be ofiF, as they have 
been watching with their large, liquid 


for the 
word of com- 
mand for an 

or more. 

and irresistible cry, hi ! hi ! hi ! All 
the dogs close in on the jack who, at first, 
seems entirely capable of taking care of himself, 
for he leads the head dog by many yards and is 
breaking away for some adjacent cover,_ open- 
ing and shutting, automatically, like an 
old-fashioned jack-knife. He is not 
to have his own way very 
long : an old dog, who 
has many ears and 
^ <^:^. scalps to his 

^^-^<<!; >,^ credit, 

"^ "^ " " '<>l4v does nol 


few words 
of explanation as to the manner 
of conducting the hunt is necessary 
to be given to the guest and new member. 
They are advised to allow the dogs to catch the ""^^J^ 

game ; but the}'- will soon learn that such advice is ^ 

uncalled for when a jack rabbit is started from among 
the poppies and heliotrope where he has been slyly blinking 
and sagely crouching. It may be well to explain that the jack 
rabbit of California is similar in size to that of the desert, and the 
plains of Kansas and Colorado, being about as large again in the 
body as the "cotton-tail" rabbit of the East. His legs are lon- 
ger and so formed as to give him great powers for speed, he 
resembling his prototype, the donkey, alone in the length of his 
ears and the apparent indifference he has to exertion. 

The riders, composed of about an equal number of ladies 
and gentlemen, are stretched out in single file across the 
open country, with the dogs as close to the hunters as 
possible. As a ru^.e it is not long before a jack 




in the 


\ par' 

• of th( 





is started, and then the fun begins 
The riding is ' ' fast and furious. ' ' 
If the game is started at the 
extreme end of the line, 
the attention of both 
riders and dogs is 
called bv the familiar 

/^'y the di 

■y^ rectioi 

^/ the rabbi 

is taking ; h^ 

then start 

away at full spee( 

to intercept him jus 

as he is about to plung 

through a cypress hedge o 




seek safety in a patch of wild mus- 
tard ; he is captured — a few seconds 
ends it all. The hunters rapidly 
gather at the scene of the encounter. 
The gentleman who first seizes the 
rabbit cuts off its long ears, and grace- 
fully presents them to the first lady 
who is " in at the death," if, indeed, 
as is more than likely to occur, she is 
not the first herself to claim all the 
honor ; while the rest of the hunters 
are wondering wh}^, from the earnest- 
ness and skill with which they rode, 
they did not get there in time. They 
will soon learn after a few more dashes 
that it is not riding a fabulous dis- 
tance or the greatest speed or with the 
most conspicuous daring, but getting 
in at the death with the least exertion 
to rider and beast, which will be the 
most satisfactory at the end of the 
day's hunt. The pack is called off to 
a near-by hydrant, where they rest and 
wash their mouths and cool their 
throats. It is amusing to see the gre}'- 
hounds refreshing themselves by tak- 
ing water directly from the faucet ; 
rarely do they lap the water if an 
opportunity is afforded for them to 
drink from a running pipe. To the 
visitor it is ever a source of wonder to 
see facilities afforded for so frequent 
chances to enjoy a drink of the purest 
mountain water. For miles in all di- 
rections the friendly fountain stands 
ready for use, placed there by the once 
eager land-boomer, who covered hun- 
dreds of acres with water-pipes, so 
that it might be possible for ever>' 
building lot, on which was to stand 
the house that was soon to add its 
dwellers, to swell the population of a 
future city. Many times the Valley 
Hunt has called him a benefactor to 
horse and dog, if he did not prove to 
be one to himself. 

All have been refreshed and are 
now ready for another run. The 
field is similarly arranged as in the 
first instance. A muscat or zinfandel 
vineyard is to be driven. The propri- 
etor does not object, because the jack 
is his sworn enemy. It is not a rarity 
to pick delicious raisins or even an 

occasional bunch of the second crop 
of muscats late in December, which 
has been overlooked by the pickers for 
the winery. After the grapes have 
been gathered the vines are trimmed 
back close to the trunk, year after 
year, until the vineyard is studded all 
over with great knotted and gnarled 
stumps on which it is needless to say 
that it is dangerous for horse or rider 
to fall. Reckless is the horseman 
who does not ' ' use his head ' ' when a 
jack is started. The rows in many of 
the vineyards in the San Gabriel Val- 
ley are a mile or more in length ; but 
between them there is ample room for a 
careful rider and a sensible horse to go 
at full speed. In the shade of an old 
stump the coy jack is sitting, and will 
not leave his hiding place until the 
dogs get too close for comfort. He 
then puts his energies at work, by 
taking prodigious leaps into the air, 
and makes a break for liberty betrv^een 
two rows of vines. The hunters have 
been commanded to ride in such a 
manner as to direct the game into the 
open country. Seated on a horse of 
the ordinary height, one can see the 
maneuvers of the jack as he dodges 
and eludes the greyhounds, whose 
only chance of making a capture is 
to keep their eyes upon him. When 
the rabbit succeeds in escaping, for 
the time being, at once the hounds 
begin a serious of graceful leaps high 
into the air, turning their shapely heads 
rapidly in all directions in order to 
catch a glimpse of the game, which 
they invariably do if the cover is not 
too thick. They will repeat this effort 
again and again until they are called 
away to seek a chase in another part 
of the vineyard. When the rabbit leaves 
the protection of the vines or high 
growths of mustard, sage brush, " life 
everlasting," or the "black-eyed 
Susan" sunflower, he must seek oth- 
er means to elude the quick eyes of 
the pursuing hounds. It is then that 
some very unique demonstrations of 
cunning are shown by the little ani- 
max. When almost within the grasp 
of the leading dog he will turn at a 


right angle, going at full speed, or pos- 
sibly make what appears to be a par- 
tial sommersault, and go back in 
almost the same direction from which 
he has been pursued. This plan suc- 
ceeds beautifully ; the dog being the 
heavier, and going with such impetus, 
overreaches his object and goes many 
yards before he can recover himself. 
In the interval, if the rest of the pack 
is not well bunched and obstructing 
his retreat, he has secured a new lease 
of life. He is now showing unmistakable 
evidences of " being winded ;" so are 
the dogs ; but some of the rear guard 
now come up to relieve the younger 
and more ambitious ones. The sly 
old jack sees his last and forlorn hope, 
— a washout ; into this he drops out 
of sight of both dogs and hunters ; 
and it is likely he has made good his 
escape, not by hiding in a hole, but 
by running along the tortuous turn- 
ings of the wash he easily keeps out 
of sight of the dogs. The riders and 
horses have all had a long, hard chase; 
and woe be to the one who is ignorant 
of California soil ; for when the hedge 
and ditch are approached no sign of 
the latter is in view ; — no warning is 
given by gently sloping banks until 
the horse's nose is hanging over the 
abyss, some five or six feet deep by as 
many wide. The supreme moment 
has arrived for the rider to exercise 
good judgment, or else dire disaster is 
sure to follow, as many a daring gentle- 
man rider has found to his discomfort 
when he gathered himself together in 
the bottom of the washout ; and some 
of the lady members of the Valley 
Hunt have been known to get into ' ' a 
peck of trouble" by not giving their 
horses freedom of head and allowing 
them to take the hedge and ditch as 
some others did. (See frontispiece.) 

The affair at the ditch has drawn 
the attention away, for the moment, 
from the dogs and the pursuit of game ; 
but the hunters are rewarded for the 
temporary break in the day's run 
by finding that no bones have been 
broken, horse and rider receiving only 
a few scratches ; and a trusty old dog 

who has gone oflF on his own account 
and run the jack down lays him at 
the feet of the hunters. 

The runs are made in quick succes- 
sion until near the appointed hour for 
luncheon, 'to be held in one of the 
many charming and secluded canons 
or beneath the pleasant shade of the 
live-oaks or eucalyptus groves, where 
the invited guests and two or three 
score of members who have elected 
the carriage as being the safer and 
more comfortable means of hunting 
than in the saddle have assembled and 
are waiting for the arrival of the 
hunters before the tempting contents 
of the baskets are spread. 

The hunters begin to arrive with 
sharpened appetites, and eager to 
narrate the hairbreadth escapes from 
being impaled upon grape stumps or 
deposited in some unsuspected ditch, 
all of which adds to the full enjoyment 
of the run; for a hunt without some ele- 
ment of danger in it is tame, as any 
cross-country rider of the Rose Tree 
and Radnor Hunts of eastern Pennsyl- 
vania or the Queen's County Hunt of 
New York will testify. 

To the one who for the first time is 
experiencing the brilliancy and beauty 
of a midwinter day's outing in South- 
ern California comparisons are truly 
odious. It requires a positive mental 
effort to make one believe that prob- 
ably at the identical hour Eastern 
hunting clubs are taking ' ' worm' ' and 
four-railed fences, galloping over hill 
and field with avidity if the dogs are 
in full-cry, wading creeks filled with 
floating ice, or plunging through 
snow-drifts, or facing a cutting norther. 
The conditions may be just the oppo- 
site, and instead of a hard-frozen sur- 
face a thaw may set in, which, if it has 
continued long, will not add to the 
pleasant features of a cross-country ride. 

As the enthusiastic party is now 
seated around the table, which is 
spread on wild flowers, nothing but 
exclamations of joy are to be heard 
at the supreme pleasure of being 
present at such a novel feast. Many 
who for the first time have been 


taking a ride after the hounds in 
California are anxious to express 
their feelings over the scene of such 
surpassing grandeur, where the golden 
rod, asters, lilies and lupines skirt 
the borders of the chaparral and 
sage-brush, and where the wise owl 
and squirrel, the latter sitting like jack 
in the pulpit, are in close proximit}- to 
the home of the honey bee. It is here 
the menu from Boston baked beans to 
New York salads is discussed, as is 
also the letter received in the morn- 
ing's Overland mail, and the surround- 
ings of far-away friends are compared 
with their own. Dull must be the 
individual who does not fall in love 
with a California winter's day. Here 
God's poems are the perfect davs! 
Here it is so easy to live and hard to 
die; for the "rose-embowered" cottage 
and hay fields are in sight, and it is a 
paradise of flowers from which one 
does not wish to go, making the 
thought of dissolution an unpleasant 
one. The successful lady riders are 
now w^earing the jacks' long silken 
ears in their jaunty riding-hats. These 
are to be preserved as trophies of the 
day's sport ; and many a lady's boudoir 
in Chicago, Philadelphia, New York 
and Boston is ornamented with them ; 
and should these lines meet the eye of 
a former guest of the Valley Hunt, on 
this winter day, and contentment with 
her surroundings in her Eastern home 
is her lot, she is to be congratulated. 
The foregoing description of " a reg- 
ular monthly meet ' ' is merely a hint 
at what can be enjoyed almost au}^ day 
of the year in Southern California, if 
one has the inclination. 

The mind becomes bewildered and 
dazed with the innumerable attractive 
points that can be reached on horse- 
back. It has become an old story with 
the average Californian to hear the 
praises of his landscapes and flowers 
sung until he wonders whether they 
will ever cease until the mountains 
shall pass away and the ocean breezes 
no longer cool the summer's fervid heat. 
Before the rains begin and after the 
spring opens the shady cafions are 

mostly sought by the hunt for their 
monthly meets to eat their luncheons. 
An easy and accessible one is the far- 
famed Arroyo Seco, from whose bed the 
water is obtained which supplies the 
residents of Pasadena, and irrigates 
the almost countless orange and lemon 
trees and shrubbery on the lawns in 
the "crown of the valley." 

The " Devil's Gate," always allur- 
ing as its illustrious namesake, which 
is an ideal natural park, where any 
month of the year one may be content 
to lounge away a day in sweet idle- 
ness, is frequently selected as the place 
to eat luncheon. Here beneath the 
stately live-oaks and sycamores, seated 
among the flowers, the baskets are 
emptied, while the squirrels and quail 
chatter and chirp to give warning of 
the approaching riders and dogs as they 
hasten toward the brink of the Arroyo, 
where the aroma of the boiling coffee 
and the merry laugh of the hunters 
fill the cafion. 

The romantic and historic El Molino, 
or the old mill as it is usually called, 
is still another place where the mem- 
bers of the meet are always anxious to 
entertain their guests. What a suc- 
cession of entrancing thoughts course 
through the mind when seated around 
this vine and rose clad structure, built 
originally by the old padres to grind 
their grain, when a century ago they 
taught the native the way to what 
they believed a better and more beau- 
tiful country. Vivid must be the imag- 
ination of the individual who can 
picture to himself a more beautiful 
place than can be found in the vicinity 
of El Molino. One is reminded of the 
descriptions given in the Conquest of 
Granada, where "Christian knight and 
turbaned infidel disputed inch by inch 
the fair land of Andalusia, ' ' and one can 
readil}' see its counterpart here, where 
the sky is so serene, the earth so beau- 
tiful, the air so pure, that the dwellers 
in sweet Alhambra near by might 
well be excused, if like the Moor of old 
they should imagine the paradise of 
their prophet to be .situated in that part 
of heaven which overhangs their groves 



of orange, citron and pomegranate, 
in which the}^ are rejoiced bj^lhe song 
of the mocking bird and the chimes of 
the old Mission bells heard each day 
as the sun peeps over the snow- 
crowned San Bernardino range, and 
as it sets in the western sea. 

The approach to the mill can be 
made through Oak Knoll, an enchant- 
ing place of itself, covered as it is 
with vineyards and shaded by the 
weeping willow, majestic oak and 
graceful pepper with its lace-like 
branches. The live-oak, of all trees, is 
worthy to be held as a domestic deity, 
before which every one should kneel, 
for the sake of its knotted and gnarled 
branches which reach out in such 
beauty and grandeur, so twisted and 
so long, to encompass in its embrace a 
party of hunters beneath its evergreen 
shade, who have had a lively run after 
a large jack started on the outskirts of 
Pasadena. The dogs may have had 
more than the usual difficulty in over- 
taking him, but his ears now adorn 
the lady's hat who first cried out ' ' they 
are mine ! " 

The adjacent caiions are filled with 
huge live-oaks and sycamores from 
whose branches the wild grape and 
clematis hang in graceful festoons. 
This natural park is entered by the 
hunters by descending into a deep 
canon which is only accessible on 
horseback. The coyote and wildcat 
may be started here in this retreat by 
the fox hounds; and when the wild- 
flowers are in bloom, acre after acre 
is covered with the sweet-scented 
heliotrope, daisies of the most deli- 
cate hues, as well as the violet of 
many colors, making a scene like fairy- 
land ; but if the flowers are sweet and 
beautiful what words can express the 
impression made on the mind by the 
old live-oaks, under whose branches 
the cattle stamp out the long, long 
summers, so thick in most places that 
the sun's rays never strike the ground 
from year to year. A coyote whose 
monotonous and reiterated howls have 
made the nights hideous, and who has 
decimated the chicken corrals in the 

vicinity, is startled from his hiding 
place, but soon disappears among the 
chaparral and sage-brush. It would be 
useless to give chase with greyhounds 
unless he should retreat to the open 
country, when he would soon be over- 
taken and dispatched. In this case 
the brush is taken as the trophy of 
honor ; his skin, as well, may orna- 
ment the library of the next in at the 

The ride is continued through ave- 
nues and vistas of live-oaks beside a 
clear brook whose source is in the 
water-bearing hills to the north. An 
artificial lake is skirted where a solemn 
band of sheep are meditating after hav- 
ing filled themselves with the suc- 
culent alfileria. Still further on the 
hunters emerge from the canon and 
come to the banks of a large lake 
which is now claimed by the shy 
" mudhen" who hurries away with 
unnecessary clatter and speed to hide 
among the tule, which is also the re- 
treat of the coon as he fishes for the 
catfish so abundant. This body of 
water was formerly alive with wild 
geese and ducks; now only a few visit 
it in their migratory passages, prefer- 
ing the immense expanse of suitable 
feeding grounds near the coast. The 
meet at Ul Molino on a clear day in 
March is one long to be remembered 
by the Hunt and its friends. 

One more ride from among the hun- 
dreds just as full of interest and pleas- 
ure, and it will probably be seen why 
it is that a Californian who has tried 
to inspect nature for the love of it, 
generally accompanied by his trusty, will now and then take off his 
hat and make his bow from the sum- 
mit of some symmetrical foothill to 
the land.scape spread before him. 

The early morning throughout the 
year is, be_vond question, the proper 
time to start, especially if the sky is 
free from clouds, as is the case fre- 
quently enough to satisfy the most 

This holiday will be in the early 
part of April. The Puente Hills will 
be the objective point, these being the 


in at the Death. 



natural boundary separating the San 
Gabriel from the I^os Angeles Valley, 
where any month one can alwa5^s meet 
with a kind reception from nature on 
their summits. A good point to enter 
the depression, through and up which 
you must ride, is beneath the oaks at 
Lincoln Park. 

The appearance of the foothills is 
very deceptive in the clear California 
atmosphere, giving the impression, at 
a distance of several miles away, that 
one can canter his horse from base to 
top with ease ; but after the ascent be- 
gins it will be imperative to make a 
zig-zag course. When the ridge is 
attained a gallop is taken. The mag- 
nificence and surpassing grandeur of 
the panorama is almost appalling since 
the revelation comes upon you so sud- 
denly, making it beyond human con- 
ception to realize that so much beauty 
is actually wasted to those who do 
not mount their horses for an early 
morning run across a Southern Cali- 
fornia landscape. 

Looking to the right and left into 
deep canons on either side, widening 
out into peaceful meadows through 
which a clear stream is meandering, 
here and there a sheep-herder's camp 
is seen. This consists of the rudest 
apology for a tent, — the ground strewn 
with empty cans, the ever present 
"jerked meat" hanging on a line in 
the sun, a rickety table, soiled blank- 
ets, and a few cooking utensils. In 
looking at this, one gets a conception 
of how far a human being can fall 
below the idea of heaven's first law 
and be so totally at variance with the 
soul-inspiring efforts nature has been 
so prodigal with around him. 

One after another of the small 
canons are hunted by the fox hounds 
while the horsemen keep on the ridge 
with the greyhounds held in leashes, 
until a coyote, or, as frequently hap- 
pens, two or three, may be seen leav- 
ing the brush simultaneously ; and as 
they pass over the summit the grey- 
hounds are turned loose, and even 
should a capture not take place it is 

a sight which any member of an East- 
ern hunt would enjoy. 

Following the crests of the hills for 
an hour, bearing to the southeast, Ra- 
mona Lake is reached. If the rains 
have been frequent and abundant, 
the lake has its banks full. This body 
of water gives an air of comfort to the 
surrounding landscape, and is a place 
where the thirsty horses may be re- 
freshed before beginning the climb to 
the summit. The wild oats reach to 
the saddle skirts in many places, and 
are certain to give the feet a wetting 
if the ride is taken before lo A. M. 
The alfileria, California's leading food 
for cattle and sheep, gives off an aro- 
matic fragrance when it is crushed 
beneath the horses' feet, similar to the 
geranium, of which it is a species. 
The wild mustard shoots high above 
horse and rider's head. The poppy, 
though not so abundant here as nearer 
the mountains, j^et is sufficiently 
prolific to give the outlying plains a 
color which looked upon once is apt 
to make a lasting impression upon the 
visitor, never to be obliterated from 
memor}', and which will cause a feeling 
of homesickness for California and the 
San Gabriel Valley whenever the 
next ride is taken through snow and 
slush or over the average country road 
in the East at a corresponding season 
of the 3'ear. 

Though the dogs ma)^ be filling 
the ravines with their music, driving 
the co3'otes from their hiding places, 
the riders are too much absorbed with 
the beauties of nature to pay any at- 
tention to the chase which is in pro- 
gress. They check their horses and 
either remain seated in the saddle or 
dismount, and while the horses are 
eating the rich, green grasses endeavor 
to take in the situation. 

A stiff breeze is blowing, making an 
ordinar>Mvinter suit comfortable. The 
sky is devoid of clouds ; and the 
party, composed of both ladies and 
gentlemen, look through the purple 
haze upon the broad acres of the 
far-famed Los Angeles Valley, so 
magnificent in all directions, the 


city of lyos Angeles, built on more 
than twice seven hills, then many 
smaller towns between the Puente 
Hills and the Pacific, which is shining 
and glistening only a short ride away, 
numerous ranches with their thou- 
sands of acres of waving grain, euca- 
lyptus forests here and there, forty 
miles away Catalina Island resting 
like a huge whale on the Pacific just 
along the horizon, where some of the 
hunters have fished for the lively yel- 
low tail, barracuda, and the monstrous 
jew fish, in its smooth, fairy-like wa- 
ters surrounding it, reminding one of 
the Island of Capri, so charming to 
the Neapolitan. 

Turning now to the San Gabriel 
Valley, at our feet lies Ramona Lake, 
on whose surface are floating wild 
ducks, consisting of teal, spoon-bills, 
a few mallard and some other varieties 
which took flight when the dogs ap- 
proached before the climb to the sum- 
mit began. From this point can be 
seen mountains as high as heaven, 
capped with snow with their smygmo- 
graphic tracings against a clear sky, 

fertile on all their sides, their bases 
wreathed with vineyards and rich with 
every fruit. Here are clear streams of 
water which, before they left their 
deep mountain passes, were filled with 
trout, breaking into numberless cas- 
cades. Here are shady groves, fertile 
fields, lovely plains, — on the one side 
great warmth, on the other side de- 
lectable coolness despite the summer's 
heat. The soul that is "so dead ' ' as 
not to be capable of admitting that a 
land where such scenes can be viewed 
from the saddle is appropriate for 
philosophy and worthy the habita- 
tion of the muses should not be com- 
miserated if he or she is content to 
live where cyclones and blizzards vie 
with each other to excel in adding to 
human misery and the destruction of 
life and property. This is the senti- 
ment of every Southern Californian 
who has penetrated its shady canons, 
galloped over its flaming poppy fields, 
and followed the hounds with the Val- 
ley Hunt through orange groves, vine- 
yards, and stopped to eat a volunteer 
watermelon in January. 


By Emii,y Browne Powell. 

THREE women stood together as the chime 
Of distant bells rang in the Christmas time. 
And lo ! a vision, radiant and fair, 
A heavenly presence, shone before them there ! 
The dear L,ord stood revealed ; He asked each one : 
" In this bright year for me what hast thou done ? " 

The first said : "Lord, Thy voice seemed calling me 

To distant lands. Thy messenger to be. 

To carry on Thy work I have not failed ; 

In danger often, yet I have not quailed. 

Among the heathen I have cast my lot 

To teach the faith to those who know Thee not." 

The second said : ' ' Lord, I have tried to be 

A faithful steward. With full hands and free 

I've given of my wealth to feed the poor ; 

Oft I've brought hope to those who hoped no more. 

Of pain and suffering I have eased the smart, 

And taught to thank Thee many a grateful heart." 

The third stood humbly there with downcast eyes. 
" I have no wealth to give ; I am not wise. 
Dear Lord, 'tis little I have done for Thee; 
But I have walked with all in charity. 
At others' sins, I, conscious of my own, 
Point no accusing finger, cast no stone." 

The Master smiled down on the drooping head. 
" Who e'er loves mine loves also Me," He said. 
" Who e'er shows mercy shows it unto Me ; 

She hath all graces who hath charity." 


By Minna V. Lewis. 

was begun thir- 
teen 3^ears ago in 
San Francisco 
which may truly 
be said to have 
led by the hand 
" the baby figure 
of the giant mass 
of things to come." Such is the esti- 
mate to-day put upon the free kinder- 
gartens, the alma mater of neglected 

While thirteen years may not have 
added greatly to the stature of the 
young giant, the most casual of ob- 
servers cannot have failed to realize 
that, under the new dispensation, their 
influence has directed no small part of 
its plus strength, known as hoodlum- 
ism, into better channels. 

In the conservation of this plus 
power, the force which, undirected, 
breaks window-panes, destroys peace 
and defies all law, is turned to the de- 
velopment of mechanical skill, the 
practice of right living and doing. 

The man from an Eastern manufac- 
turing town who, having watched with 
intelligent interest the work of the 
children during his visit to one of the 
kindergartens in San Francisco, saw 
with a keen business insight the bear- 
ing of such an education upon indus- 
trial pursuits and the future of the 
child, was but one of the many think- 
ing men who have recognized the eco- 
nomic bearing of this undertaking. 
While from the first the relation of 
kindergarten training to a perceptible 
adjustment of things to law and order 
has been acknowledged, beginning 
with the fruit and vegetable dealers 
on the Barbary Coast, during the first 
year of the work there, who brought 
in a purse of seventy-five dollars to one 
of the kindergarten teachers as a trib- 
ute to the work that taught children 

not to nip their fruit or smash their 
windows as thej^ were wont to do, 
down to the far-sighted, generous- 
hearted business men of the different 
commercial organizations who to-day 
support many of these institutions for 
the upbuilding of the community. 

Adolph Sutro. 

The disciples of Frederic Froebel, 
" the pedagogic apostle of freedom," 
are increasing in number every day. 
It is this plan of educating the whole 
being, this beginning at the foundation 
of things, which has come to offer more 
and more strongly each year since its 
adoption the most potent means to the 
solution of some of the gravest social 
problems. Beginning in Germany, 
this system has so affected its growth as 
to make it the intellectual and prac- 
tical leader of Europe. In Austria, by 
Imperial edict, it has been made the 
basis of education ; while in France, 
England and the United States the 
movement is making rapid progress. 
In our own country where, more 
keenly alive to the difiiculties that be- 
set us, our need for overcoming them 
is greatest, this ground plan of im- 
provement has long occupied the best 



thought of the community. Kinder- 
gartens have been established b}' pri- 
vate philanthropy ; while the school 
boards of St. Louis, Boston and Phila- 
delphia have adopted the sj'Stem as 
part of their work with great success. 
In the minds of the educators, political 
economists and philanthropists of this 
countr}' the time for its national adop- 
tion is not far distant. Pending that 
time, however, the work is being nobly 
carried by private organizations, no- 
where more effectually or with as great 
rapidity of growth as in California. 

The first inspiration to the work in 
San Francisco was given b}' Professor 
Felix Adler, President of the Society 
for Ethical Culture, of New York, who, 
with quick discernment, saw during 
his brief visit here in the summer of 
1878 a broad field for this peculiar 

Imbued with the spirit of his earnest- 
ness, a number of prominent citizens, 
among whom were Mr. Solomon Hey- 
denfeldt, Mr. S. Nickelsburg, Dr. J. 
Hirschfelder, Mr. S. W. Levy, Mrs. L. 
Gottig and Miss Emma Marwedel, the 
first kindergartner on this Coast, gave 
their aid to the new work, to such good 
purpose that before Mr. Adler had left 
the city the Public Kindergarten So- 
ciety of San Francisco was formed and 
incorporated, with Judge Heydenfeldt 
as President, assisted b}' a number of 
earnest men and women, nearly all of 
whom are still in its activ^e ser\'ice. 

The first free kindergarten was 
started on Silver Street in that most 
dismal part of the city known as " Tar 
Flat," and Miss Kate Smith, now Mrs. 
Wiggin, installed as teacher, a more 
enthusiastic, capable beginner of the 
work than whom could not have been 

In 1885 this society reincorporated 
under the name of the Pioneer Kinder- 
garten Society, and moved to quarters 
even more destitute, but whose dark- 
ness they still bravely help to dispel, 
and now sustain four kindergartens in 
different parts of the city. Its active 
members and subscribers are composed 
of many men and women of wealth and 

philanthropic spirit. Among them are 
the names of Mr. M. H. Hecht, Mrs. 
David Bixler, Mrs. N. D. Rideout, Mr. 
L. Gottig and Mr. Adolph Sutro, who 
has also the honor of being a generous 
contributor to each of the other so- 

r\ : 

Kate Douglass Wiggin. 

The Silver Street Kindergarten So- 
ciet}', with as many supporters, has 
continued the work on Silver Street, 
under the untiring efforts of Mrs. Wig- 
gin and her sister. Miss Norah Smith. 
This society now sustains three kin- 
dergartens known as the Crocker 
Class, in honor of Mrs. Harriet Crocker- 
Alexander, its benefactor ; the Eaton 
Class, named for Gen. John Eaton, 
Ex. U. S. Commissioner of Educa- 
tion ; the Peabodj' Class, in honor of 
Miss Elizabeth Peabody of Boston, the 
first woman to introduce the kinder- 
garten in America, and the Little 
Housekeeper's Class, composed of girls 
from eight to thirteen years of age, 
graduates of the younger schools, who 
are here taught bj^ a series of object 
lessons to perform household tasks on 
the well-regulated household plan and 
after the most simplified methods. 

In connection with the other work, 
a school for the training of kinder- 
garten teachers, opened by Mrs. Wig- 
gin in 1880, is now being carried on 
bv Miss Smith, from which most of 



the kindergartners on this Coast have 
been graduated. Out of this training 
school has grown the California Froe- 
bel Society, organized for the better 
diffusion of kindergarten principles 
and the purpose of inspiring its mem- 
bers to keep pace with the best 
thought of the time. 

It was shortly after the opening of the 
first free kindergarten on Silver Street 
by the Public Kindergarten Society, 
that Mrs. Sarah B. Cooper made her 
first visit there at the suggestion of 
Professor John Swett, a member of its 
Board of Trustees and one of the most 
experienced and successful educators 
in this country. From that hour her 
whole heart enlisted in the cause, Mrs. 
Cooper became the loyal, zealous 
champion of the work, and with pen 
and voice and every means she could 
command laid the foundation of the 
Golden Gate Kindergarten Associa- 

This Association, organized in 1879 
by Mrs. Cooper as the specific work of 
her large Bible Class, having caught 
the enthusiasm of its leader, gave the 
greatest possible impulse to the work 
which has each year assumed larger 
proportions and its progress been at- 
tended by increasing zeal. 

To-day there are thirty-two free 
kindergartens, with an enrollment of 
2,600 children, in operation under the 
management of the Golden Gate Kin- 
dergarten Association, with whose 
thoroughly organized methods the 
best regulated public school system 
would almost suffer by comparison. 
The strict economy in the use of its 
funds and the efficiency of its methods 
have recommended the Association far 
and wide. More than 50,000 of its 
reports have been scattered broadcast 
over this country and Europe; and dur- 
ing the past year alone more than 
7,000 letters were written by Mrs. 
Cooper and her daughter in reply to 
various inquiries concerning this great 
work and its organization elsewhere. 
Over $260,000 have been given to 
the support of the Association since 

its organization, including the gifts of 
Mrs. Leland Stanford and several 
other large endowments, the careful 
disbursement of which sum has been 
the glad labor of Mrs. Cooper, the 
president, and its faithful officers and 
board. No salary has ever been paid 
an officer from the funds donated. 

Mrs. Sarah B. Cooper. 

A free training class, under the in- 
struction of Miss Anna Stovall, one of 
the most accomplished of teachers, has 
recently been established in connec- 
tion with this vast work, in which some 
thirty-five earnest young women are be- 
ing trained in the kindergarten prin- 
ciples and methods. It is the aim of 
the Association to make this training 
class a model in every respect. No 
pains, no time, no money will be 
spared to perfect it, nor can its pur- 
pose be too highly commended. 

The gifts for the maintenance of 
this splendid system are mostly from 
noble women, and the workers noble 
women who have here found their 
most worthy mission, — one that lies 
just as surely before them, before every 
body of earnest women, to be done for 
the common welfare of humanity as 
does the part of each individual 
woman in the smaller family of the 
home; and just so soon as she has 



entered it will this larger maternit}^ 
bring her proportionate joy. 

Mrs. IvCland Stanford, with the gen- 
erosity of a warm heart, kindled to- 
ward all childhood in memory of her 
son, Leland Stanford, Junior, has 
given lavishly of her wealth to the 
cause. In the magnanimity of Senator 
and Mrs. Stanford this thought of the 
new education for the masses has stood 
side by side with their plans for facili- 
tating the means to higher education 
in the Far West. Coeval with the 
Leland Stanford Junior University 
have grown the lyCland Stanford Junior 
Free Kindergartens, seven in number 
and permanently endowed by a fund 
of $100,000, fulfilling in its broadest 
serse a plan for the ideal university 
that shall embrace the whole science 
of human life. 

The thought expressed in the Le- 
land Stanford Junior Memorial Kinder- 
gartens has been the seed-germ of five 
other memorial kindergartens in San 
Francisco alone, the T. Fuller Shat- 
tuck, the Lester Norris, the Pearl 
Dowda, the Emily P. Walker and the 
William Steuben Memorial Kinder- 

The munificence of Mrs. Phoebe A. 
Hearst, whose heart is bound very 
strongly to this new impulse in educa- 
tion, supports three of these institu- 
tions and looks toward its develop- 
ment so earnestly that funds for the 
establishment and maintenance of a 
Manual Training School, supplement- 
ing the industrial training begun in 
the kindergartens and fitting the chil- 
dren graduated therefrom to become 
skillful artisans in the different lines 
of mechanical industry, have been 
promised, and the permanent endow- 
ment of such an institution insured. 

Mrs. A. J. Pope, Mrs. C. P. Hunt- 
ington and Mrs. K. S. Hart are among 
the others whose abundant means en- 
able them to make generous gifts to 
the work. 

But to the something more than 
mere wealth which has crowned this 
effort toward the uplifting of the rising 
generation in San Francisco with suc- 

cess there have been contributed the 
loving aid, the unswerving faith, the 
devotion of many self-sacrificing work- 
ers, without whose service no amount 
of wealth could have brought it about. 

Mrs. Leland Stanford. 

Mrs. Sarah B. Cooper, to whose 
great organizing power and untiring 
superintendence of the vast work the 
success of the movement is so largely 
due, has consecrated her very life to 
the cause. With a zeal that over- 
comes every obstacle and that makes 
generosity and self-sacrifice conta- 
gious, she has won not alone the rich 
but the co-operation of all to whom 
she appeals, until nearly the whole 
community has responded to the call ; 
while the rare efficiency of the system 
over which she presides, the Golden 
Gate Kindergarten Association, has 
awakened the best thought of the 
whole country to the importance of 
this undertaking. 

Of the results of so great a move- 
ment, the evidence of moral uplift in 
the localities where the kindergartens 
are planted, and the perceptible growth 
and unfolding of the powers and 
graces of body, soul and spirit of the 
children under its benign influence, 
too much cannot be said. Manifold as 



are the evidences of its power for good, 
no statement can be cited that would 
more forcibly illustrate the fact than 
that of Mrs. Cooper, who, after careful 
investigation of the matter, affirms 
that she has found but one child out of 
the more than nine thousand that have 
been brought up in the kindergartens 
of the Golden Gate Association who 
has ever been arrested for offense 
against the law. and this after con- 
tinued watchfulness of the police 
records and frequent inspection of the 
lists of inmates of the various houses 
of correction, and in face of the fact 
that these nine thousand children have 
all come from the localities that make 
the criminal element. 

The sixt3'-five free kindergartens in 
San Francisco, including those in or- 
phanages, as3'lums, hospitals and daj^ 
homes, are all crowded to their utmost 
limit; and yet they do not provide for 
half of the little waifs that swarm its 
streets and who are one day to form 
one-half of that " giant mass of things 
to come," when, possessed of its full 
power and grown to what strength we 
know not, the time will have gone by 
for any effort toward its control to 

Crime cannot be hindered by pun- 
ishment, and it has taken long enough 
years for the conviction to take hold 
of us; but the long and almost inde- 
fatigable attempts at reforming have 
served us one purpose if not the one 
we set out to gain. It is the oft-re- 
peated stor>' over again. What Froe- 
bel taught the few. experience has 
taught the many. The cry for a new 
order of things, the conviction that 
formative influences only will avail, 
the desire to begin further back, are 
based upon the study of failure. Care- 
ful investigations of our vast system 
of prisons, reformatories and work- 
houses and study into the causes of 
crime and poverty has revealed the 
want more plainly every year. It has 
been estimated that in the United 
States alone seven-tenths of the con- 
victed criminals have never learned 
a trade or followed any industrial 

pursuit. Careful tabulation of the 
semi-criminals, loafers and occasional 
laborers in any of our large cities would 
present the same startling figures pro- 
portionately, as such an investigation 
exposed in the east end of London 
when, alive to the need of alleviating 
its darkness, the plan for supplying its 
want embodied in that splendid insti- 
tution, the People's Palace, was car- 
ried out. Such a plan is needed in 
every large city, but supplementary to 
the training begun in the kinder- 
gartens. The underlying principle is 
the same in both, that the true prob- 
lem of living is solved only when the 
right direction shall have been given 
and followed out in recreation as in 
work. With this motive in view the 
founders of the English institution, 

A\iss Nora Smith, 
aside from its well-equipped technical 
and industrial schools and other edu- 
cational classes, "in the belief that in 
the recreation which demands skill, 
patience, discipline, drill and obedi- 
ence to law, man finds a deep well of 
interest and pleasure, not only in the 
enjoyment of the pleasure itself, but 
also in the energies and characteristics 
which have been trained in its acquisi- 
tion," have provided such pleasures 
and instruction as shall ensure that 
end, and placed them within reach of 
the very poorest. 



Within reach, but alas! not alwa5'S 
in time, When the man or the woman 
has found for twenty, thirty or forty 
years his or her joy in sensationaHsm 
and excitement or worse, when the 
same years have been spent in va- 
grancy or violation of the law, the time 
for the direction of his or her powers 
has practically gone by. They must 
be taken at a more pliable age. Juvenal 
said: " The man's character is made at 
seven. What he is then he will al- 
ways be ;" while Aristotle urged that 
the very playthings of the child should 
have a bearing upon the life and work 
of the coming man. It is to carry out 
the suggestion not only of these two 
philosophers but the same thought all 
along the line of far-seeing philoso- 
phers, educators and economists since 
them that the kindergarten has had its 
being. Froebel's games and occupa- 
tions develop the latent powers of the 

child, stimulate its creative faculties, 
inculcate habits of industry, order and 
perseverance, cultivate the taste, the 
intellect and feeling of the child, the 
very little child, before they have been 

Take the child at the earliest possi- 
ble age and place it in the kindergar- 
ten, away from the vicious tendencies 
that surround it, and you have begun 
just as near the beginning as it is pos- 
sible to do. It was not born right, it 
is true, but 3'ou are making the pre- 
natal history of the generations to come. 

If we mold the character and direct 
the tendencies of the child in its tender 
years, the man and the woman will 
then be better ready for the real games 
and occupations of life. Give them 
early the knowledge they must have 
to live ; teach them duties and we 
will have given them truly the rights 
they blindly clamor for now. 


By Herbert Bashford. 

n^O DAY a pall obscures the sky; 
-•■ And fiercely beats the chilling rain. 
The seas grow tall, the foam flies high, 
The crags along the shore complain. 

A wild gust bows the great fir tops. 

The cedar moans, the hemlock grieves, 

A maple shakes down cold, clear drops. 
And drowns the fire of fallen leaves. 


By Lihut. Jno. P. Finley, U. S. A. 

HK weather of any 
place is the sum of 
its transient mete- 
orological phe- 
nomena. To find 
the sum of such 
occurrences in Cal- 
ifornia will require more than ordi- 
nary calculation. In other words, 
there is variety in her weather as 
there is diversity in her industries. 
To understand these varying condi- 
tions one must consider, at least, 
the following important general 
features: (i.) The great extent of 
latitude embraced by the State. (2.) 
Its pronounced topographic outlines. 
(3.) Its position relative to the North 
Pacific Cyclone Belt. (4.) Its relation 
to the Japan and Alaskan currents of 
the North Pacific. To comprehend 
the meteorology of such a region one 
must become impressed with the ne- 
cessity of extending the investigation 
far beyond the limits of the State. 
Surrounding atmospheric conditions 
for hundreds of miles must be closely 
watched to discover the source of those 
phases of cloud and sky which make 
the progress of peculiar systems of cir- 
culating air, under the influence of 
the axial rotation of the earth, which 
bring over large areas of country 
changes in temperature and degrees 
of precipitation affecting the prosper- 
ity of thousands of square miles of ter- 
ritory. You cannot study weather 
understandingly from your own door- 

Because of California's great extent 
of territory north and south she feels 
the effect of tropical influences as well 
as those of the temperate zone. 
Coupled with her varied topography, 
unequaled in the United States, the 
fluctuations of atmospheric pressure 
within the extreme limits of the North 
Pacific Cyclone Belt give rise to some 

anomalies in weather both extremely 
interesting and complicated. Why 
\vonder at the results, with a surface 
contour affording extraordinary dif- 
ferences in elevation, from nearly 300 
feet below to about 15,000 feet above 
sea-level, permitting variations in tem- 
peratures from torrid heat to Arctic 
cold, and changes in atmospheric hu- 
midity from the driest areas on the 
continent to the saturation of a tropi- 
cal clime. The most skilled meteor- 
ologist will find ample scope for the 
exercise of his knowledge and pro- 
fessional training. 

Being at one season largely within 
and at another largely without the 
predominating influence of cyclonic 
disturbances introduces peculiarities 
of weather and climate which distin- 
guishes the meteorology of California 
from any other portion of the United 

The proximity of two ocean cur- 
rents essentially different as to tem- 
perature, course of movement and at- 
mospheric effect, gives rise to a coast 
climate remarkably at variance with 
that of the interior valleys, only a few 
miles away, and still different from 
the adjacent mountain districts. No 
State in the Union is so uniquely sit- 
uated, so diversified as to climate and 
weather, wdthin such circumscribed 

All the various local and secondary 
causes are largely subservient to one 
superior and overwhelming influence, 
the action of the North Pacific Cy- 
clone Belt. 

The meteorology of the State as a 
whole, as well as of its individual por- 
tions, falls under the sway of this 
power. The notion must be discarded, 
that the weather of California is not 
dependent upon atmospheric condi- 
tions over adjacent regions to great 
distances, especially over States to the 



east and north. This dependence arises 
from the fact that these adjacent States 
are nearer and therefore more strongly 
affected by the passage of cyclonic dis- 
turbances. All of these disturbances 
enter upon the coast from the North Pa- 
cific Ocean. They are huge atmospheric 
eddies which have developed in the 
air resting upon the warm waters of 
the Japan Current. The typhoon of 
the China and Japan seas becomes, 
later on in its course, the cyclonic dis- 
turbance which sweeps across British 
Columbia, thence to the region of the 
Great Lakes and further on to the At- 
lantic and Europe. 

All cyclones cross the United States 
at a lower latitude in winter than in 
summer. This condition results, in 
part, from the apparent movement of 
the sun north and south of the equa- 
tor, whereby the area of heat and 
moisture of the temperate zone reaches 
a higher latitude in summer and re- 
cedes to a lower latitude in winter. 
The atmospheric eddies enter the con- 
tinent at about the 50th parallel, being 
about the latitude of the center of the 
northern portion of the Japan Current, 
which flows eastward from the Asiatic 
coast. The fluctuation north and 
south of the Cyclone Belt on the Pa- 
cific Coast depends then upon the 
change in the location of the areas of 
heat and moisture. These two ele- 
ments constitute the food of C3'clonic 
disturbances ; and without an almost 
unlimited source of supply areas of 
low barometic pressure begin to fill up 
and disappear. Clouds and rain, with 
boisterous winds, are soon followed by 
clear, calm weather and a dr}^ cool 

To understand the distribution of 
precipitation over any region one must 
clearl}' comprehend the essential char- 
acteristics of a cyclonic disturbance. 
Such information is especially neces- 
sary regarding the rainfall of Cali- 
fornia, for its occurrence and distribu- 
tion are peculiar and unlike, in some 
respects, that of any other State. 

As cyclonic disturbances may vary 
in diameter from 500 to 1,500 miles, 

and the centers invariabl)' move east- 
ward north of San Francisco, it would 
rarely, if ever, occfur that the whole 
of any area could be .shown on a 
chart of the Pacific Slope. From the 
Pacific to the Mississippi Valley 
the direction is a little south of 
east. From that river to the Atlantic 
the course is somewhat north of 
east. The forms of cyclonic areas 
are either elliptical or circular, and 
the former predominates on the Pacific 
Coast. The isobaric line of 30.00 
inches marks the separation between 
the two principal classes of atmospheric 
disturbances, viz., the c\'clone (LOW) 
and the anti-cyclone (HIGH). 

An observant " new arrival " is not 
long in discovering that California 
has, during the year, two weather pe- 
riods instead of four, known as the 
' ' wet season ' ' and the ' ' dry season. ' ' 
He learns that they are powerful fac- 
tors in ascertaining the prosperity of 
the commonwealth. When nature, in 
a kind mood, arranges the relation of 
these two seasons with a marked uni- 
formity of variations, then dame For- 
tune smiles upon the commercial and 
agricultural interests of the State. If 
the exact character of these seasons 
could be forcasted in advance, what 
enormous profits could be realized. 
Such long-range prognostications have 
never been vouchsafed to man, and 
there is no immediate prospect of his 
acquiring such extraordinary know- 

We must be content for the present, 
at least, with a much more limited de- 
gree of information, but yet not lack- 
ing in practical importance. 

The two meteorological seasons of 
California are dependent, for their 
proximate occurrence, upon the distri- 
bution and frequenc}' of cyclonic dis- 
turbances between the 40th and 50th 
parallels, and the rate of progress east- 
ward, together with the energy dis- 
pla3^ed between the Pacific Ocean and 
the looth meridian. In short, the 
cyclones move farther south and are of 
greater energy in winter (the "wet 
season") than in summer (the "dry 



season"). A careful examination of 
the charts in the office of the Weather 
Bureau will show very clearly that the 
weather over any region depends upon 
the relation of the latter to the quad- 
rants of the passing cyclonic or anti- 
cyclonic disturbance. According as 
one or another of the quadrants covers 
any region, so will be the successive 
phases of weather therein. 

All forms of atmospheric precipita- 
tion are distributed over the earth 
through the agency of these systems 
of air circulation. They are of enor- 
mous extent and great power, drawing 
moisture from all available sources, 
carrying it to great heights in the at- 
mosphere, where, by a marked change 
in its surroundings, the vapor is trans- 
formed into water and falls again upon 
the earth. The physical forces of evap- 
oration and condensation cannot fulfill 
their mission in the production of at- 
mospheric precipitation without the 
assistance of adequate means for set- 
ting up and maintaining a system of 
circulation for the distribution of the 
vapor of water throughout the lower 
regions of the atmosphere. 

It has been found that these atmos- 
pheric eddies pursue certain paths over 
the continent of North America. There 
are two such lines of travel, one along 
the northern boundary of the United 
States, and the other from the West 
Indies northwestward to the Gulf 
States, curving at the 30th parallel 
north latitude, and moving thence 
northeastward over the Atlantic Coast 
States. The second path joins with 
the first one near Nova Scotia, where, 
together, they form a well-beaten path 
along the 45th parallel, of all cyclonic 
disturbances crossing to Europe. 

It is a fact to which attention has 
not been drawn, that that portion of 
the United States most distant from 
the influence of the atmospheric eddies 
which travel the two storm paths 
embraces what is known as the middle 
and southern plateau regions. They 
include southeastern California, Nev- 
ada, Utah, Arizona, New Mexico, 
western Colorado and southern Wyo- 

ming. This may be called the dry 
region of the United States. It is well 
known as the region of least rainfall, 
and has been found to be the region 
over which the greatest atmospheric 
evaporation (about 100 inches an- 
nually,) takes place. There can be 
no doubt but the meteorology and 
climatology of this region depends 
most largely upon its geographical 
position regarding the cyclonic belts 
over the United States. California's 
share in this relationship cannot be 
understood without a comprehensive 
and graphic view of the whole situation. 
The reader must already begin to see 
some evidence of the preponderating 
influence in the distribution of precip- 
itation over the United States, and 
especially the Pacific Slope. Of course 
all general and predominating influ- 
ences are counteracted here and there 
by local differences which, in this dis- 
cussion, may be briefly referred to as 
topographical. The limits of this pa- 
per will not permit of considering this 
branch of the subject particularly. 
The tabulated data given herein will 
illustrate some of the effects of local 
surroundings. The dry region of the 
United States can never be other than 
it is, so far as atmospheric conditions 
are concerned, without a great physi- 
cal change, which would completely 
reverse the circulation of the Japan 
Current in the North Pacific Ocean, 
and bring it nearer the California 
coast. It must needs bathe this coast 
as does the Gulf Stream the coast of 
the South and Middle Atlantic States. 
Then would the dry region become, 
in weather and climate and in vegeta- 
tion, as that of the Gulf and South 
Atlantic States. 

We find that the weather of Cali- 
fornia, like that of any other region, 
is dependent upon the atmospheric 
conditions surrounding it for hundreds 
of miles. If it were nearer the Cyclone 
Belts, its two famous Seasons, the 
"wet" and the "dry," would be 
changed into a more uniform distribu- 
tion of precipitation throughout the 
year and a less uniform distribution of 



temperature. Such a modification of 
its climate would be detrimental to 
some of California's greatest industrial 
pursuits. Its variety of weather and 
climate is unrivaled in the United 
States, and therefore the peculiar adap- 
tability of the State for the growth of 
the choicest fruits, grasses and cereals. 
Its geographical position is such that 
the seasonal fluctuation of the North 
Pacific Cyclone Belt carries the rain 
area far to the north and protects the 
crops that would otherwise suffer 
severely from heavy cloudiness and 
drenching rains. 

The precipitation of the "wet sea- 
son," when the Cyclone Belt takes a 
more southerly course, is generally 
heavy ; and there is stored in the earth 
a supply of moisture that frequently 
goes far toward supplying the needs 
of summer. When this source fails, 
resort must be had to either surface or 
sub-irrigation. But the " dry season" 
in California does not mean an entire 
absence of rain throughout the State. 
Rains occur on the northwest coast 
from San Franci.sco northward, and in 
the mountains in the northeast and 
southeast portions, during the sum- 
mer. They are frequently heavy, with 
thunder storms in the southeast por- 
tion. The central valleys are the 
dryest in summer, especially in July 
and August, where in some places 
no rain falls during these months for 
a period of several years. In any 
case only the lightest showers would 
occur, at long intervals, resulting from 
the drifting over and settling down 
into the valleys of heavy clouds from 
the mountains. Such precipitation is 
likely to occur when the snows of the 
previous winter have been heavy and 
the mountains remain snow-capped 
throughout the year. 

The average rainfall values at se- 
lected stations in California are shown 
in Table No. I. Records are given 
from both the regular weather stations 
and those where the observations were 
made by voluntary observers. By such 
a selection a better idea can be given 
of the distribution of precipitation 
over the State. 

As average values do not give an 
idea of the extremes, I have added an 
extra column to show the greatest 
seasonal amount reported with date of 
occurrence. An examination of this 
table will show what marked varia- 
tions exist between summer and winter 
rainfall. It will also call attention to 
the fact that even the " wet .season," 
with its southerly trend of the cyclone 
belt, fails to produce adequate pre- 
cipitation for southeastern California. 
The values in this table will not show, 
satisfactorily, the average depth of 
snowfall in the mountain districts, a 
very important factor in forecasting 
the rains for July and August, and as- 
certaining the probable water supply 
for irrigating purposes. Some idea of 
the distribution of this form of precipi- 
tation can be obtained from the selected 
stations, Tehachapi, Summit, Colfax 
and Susanville. Heavy snow in the 
mountains in winter will probably re- 
sult in heavy rains in the valleys in 
summer. The enormous extent of sur- 
face covered with snow, from a few 
inches to many feet in depth, offers an 
extraordinary opportunity for rapid 
evaporation under the burning rays of 
the morning sun, through a clear, crisp 
atmosphere. Heavy clouds appear 
o' er the lofty ranges by about 1 2 noon , 
and when the sun begins his down- 
ward course, and the air currents are 
pushing down the mountains, great 
masses of clouds are hurled together 
and carried over the valleys, attended 
by smart showers and occasional mani- 
festations of atmospheric electricity. 
Here we have a brief view of the con- 
ditions under which summer rains oc- 
cur in the mountain districts of Cali- 
fornia, especially in the southeastern 
portion of the State and the adjacent 
regions of Nevada and Arizona. Even 
these may be called C3'clonic rains, for 
they invariably occur under the influ- 
ence of a barometric trough of low 
pressure, covering the eastern portion 
of the Pacific States, the center of the 
cyclonic disturbance being in British 
Columbia, north of Montana The 
effect of this trough may not disappear 
until the central area moves eastward 



into Dakota and Minnesota, like a 
monstrous sea-serpent dragging his 
tail behind him. 

A low barometric pressure is especi- 
ally favorable to evaporation and the 
development of ascensional air cur- 
rents, which force great quantities of 
vapor into the air that is rapidly con- 
densed into clouds. Clouds consist of 
small drops of water light enough to 
float in the air. Fogs are clouds rest- 
ing upon or very near to the sur- 
face of the earth. When the drops of 
water become large enough and suffi- 
ciently heavy to fall to the earth 
they are called, collectively, rain. I 
have quickly depicted here the transi- 
tions from water in the liquid and 
solid state, through the vapor or gas- 
eous form, to the liquid state again. 
What a powerful engine is the atmo- 
sphere, and how nicely adjusted must 
be all the cogs, wheels, springs and 
compensations of this exquisite piece 
of machinery, that it never wears out 
nor breaks down, nor fails to do its 
work at the right time and in the right 

The effect of the fluctuation of the 
North Pacific Cyclone Belt is also 
shown in the probability of rainy days 
for various parts of the State (see Table 
No. II), and in the percentage of clear 
and cloudy days as given in Tables 
Nos. Ill and IV. It will be noticed that 
the probability of rain for the valleys 
is proportionately much lower in sum- 
mer than the probability of cloud 
formation. This is largely due to the 
fact that while the northward deflec- 
tion of the Cyclone Belt is sufficient 
to prevent rain it does not remove the 
influence of cyclonic circulation in the 
production of cloud formation. At 
times the sky will remain overcast for 
several days and pass away without 
precipitation. The condensation has 
not been sufficiently vigorous under 
cyclonic circulation to develop drops 
of water of sufficient size to fall to the 

These tables furnish interesting and 
valuable data for comparative climatic 

study, and show the importance of sys- 
tematic meteorological investigation. 
Perhaps very few of my readers will be 
able to realize the vast amount of labor 
in computations, and the long years of 
constant watching secretly, represented 
in this little collection of figures. It is 
a patient but determined study of Na- 
ture, who refuses to reveal herself with- 
out the most ingenious and prolonged 
effort of man. 

No portion of the United States of- 
fers richer opportunities for meteoro- 
logical research, or will afford greater 
practical results from thorough and sys- 
tematic investigation, than the w^eather 
and climate of California. No State 
is in greater need of such scientific in- 
quiry; and if successfully prosecuted it 
will greatly aid in the development of 
her rich resources. It wall bring them 
to the attention of thousands who 
would be glad to enjoy the fruits of 
"perpetual summer;" the opportuni- 
ties of a w^onderfully varied climate 
and soil ; the invigorating influence of 
unsurpassed mountain and air scenery; 
and the advantages of marked uniform- 
ity of temperature along a coast line of 
marvelous extent and diversity. 

Theoretically California should fur- 
nish the best and most varied health 
resorts and sanitariums in the United 
States. Within her borders most every 
form of wasting disease should find the 
means of temporar>^ if not permanent, 

While our present knowledge war- 
rants this assumption, yet practically 
the truth of this statement, in all nec- 
essary details, must be developed and 
tested by adequate scientific research. 
The aigricultural, horticultural and 
commercial interests must be more 
fully informed as to the probabilities 
before them, and every line of indus- 
try afforded the means of weighing 
thoroughly its chances for growth and 

A reliable knowledge of probable 
weather changes and of climatic effects 
is rapidly becoming a daily necessity 
in all occupations. 




M0NTH1.Y AND Annual Average Rainfall, in Inches, at Weather Bureau 
Stations in California, from Records for Many Years. 

Jan. Feb. 

San Francisco 
Eureka . . . 
Red Bluff. . 
Sacramento . 
Fresno . . . 
Keeler . . . 
Bidwell . . . 
Los Angeles. 
San Diego . . 
Yuma .... 









1. 21 












1. 21 

Apr. May. 

4- 15 
0.1 1 

I 37 





o. 10 

Trace 0.15 

Aug. Sep 







0.41 1 





O.OI ] 







o 96 





1. 21 








2.73 , 













49.27 — 1861-62 
36.36— 1 85 2-53 
16.62— 18S5-86 

37.20— 1S66-67 
32.16— 1>"83-84 

5.86— 1S84 

Other Stations. 

Fort Gaston . 
Crescent City 
Nevada City . 
Mammoth Tank 
San Bernardino 
Campo .... 
San Luis Obispo 
Tehachapi . 
Summit. . . 
Colfax .... 
*Susan\'ille . 







































































































II 37 
1. 13 


2 21 



113.45— 1881-82 
3.11— 1R83-84 
19.63— 1SS2-83 
42.40 — 1SH3-84 
18.77— 1S83-84 
89. So — 1S89-90 

* Record for only two years. 


Monthly Percentages of Probability of Rainy Days at We.a.ther Bureau 

Stations in California, from Records for Many Years.- 



























































Sept. Oct. 

San Francisco 
Eureka .... 
Red Bluff . . 
Sacramento . 
Fresno .... 
Keeler .... 
Bidwell .... 
Los Angeles . 
San Diego . . 
Yuma .... 






















Monthly Percentages of Probability of Clear (Sunshine) Days at Weather 
Bureau Stations in California, from Records for Many Years. 


























































































































San Francisco 
Eureka .... 
Red Bluff . . 
Sacramento . 
Fresno .... 
Keeler .... 
Bidwell .... 
Los Angeles . 
San Diego . . 
Yuma .... 




Monthly Percentages of Probability of Cloudy Days at Weather Bureau 

Stations in California, from Records for Many Years. 

























































































































San Francisco , 


Red Bluff. . . . 
Sacramento . , 
Fresno . . . . , 


Bid well 

Los Angeles . . 
San Diego . . . 


By Virna Woods. 

ON sea-washed rocks a dainty lichen grows ; 
Back from the shore are loft}- cypress trees ; 
And in the waves the frail anemones 
Softly their purple fringes ope and close. 
A lonely gull on slow wing seaward goes ; 

A shallop drifts before the freshening breeze ; 
Full are the lingering hours of calm and ease ; 
Full is the soul, world-weary, of repose. 

The wind is .singing to the monotone 

Of the deep tides ; and singing in the pines, 
Through whose soft waving foliage lightly shines 

The sun on silver beaches as it shone 

Twelve decades past, when from the branches swung 
The Mission bells that Junipero hung. 


By Nei,i<ie Bi^essing Eyster. 

and around 
depths of a 

HE scene was pictur- 
esque and not uncom- 
mon at that date, the 
spring of eighteen hun- 
dred and fifty-five. 

It was about eight 
o'clock in the evening, 
a small campfire in the 
Colorado caiion sat six 
men, travel-stained but robust, play- 
ing a game of cards, and passing, at 
times, the whisky flask, as swiftly as 
though it was a weaver's shuttle. 

All were young, all were bound for 
the same goal, — the gold mines of 
California; and all alike seemed men 
to whom adventure was welcome and 
recklessness considered a virtue. 

The horses were tethered a short dis- 
tance from where the party was seated, 
their occasional neigh of satisfaction 
mingling harmoniously with the mys- 
terious noises of the dense forest and 
the quiet good humor of the travelers. 
As the play progressed the voices 
of the players grew more subdued and 

"Hold up, Gaston!" suddenly 
shouted one of the group, as he spoke 
impulsively grasping the hand of his 
opponent and scattering the cards 
which he held to the right and left. 

With an oath, Gaston sprang to his 
feet. His handsome face, distorted 
with anger — and flushed with whisky 
— glared for an instant upon the start- 
led band. Drawing his revolver from 
his belt he fired two shots into the 
breast of his accuser; and ere the 
exclamations, "Coward! Coward!" 
which burst from one of the confused 
group, as he sprang forward to catch 
the falling man, had died away, Gas- 
ton, on his horse, was fleeing through 
the outer darkness. 

I was idly sauntering through 
the court of the Palace Hotel, San 

Francisco, recently, musing upon the 
question, " What is reality and what 
is unreality?" when my attention 
was arrested by a voice asking earn- 

' ' Have you ever, when completely 
awake, had a vivid impression of see- 
ing or being touched by a living be- 
ing, or inanimate object, or of hearing 
a voice, which impression, as far as 
you could discover, was not due to 
any external, physical cause ? " 

The speaker was one of two middle- 
aged, practical, matter-of-fact-looking 
men, who, seated in arm chairs, were 
enjoying an after-dinner cigar; but in- 
stead of politics, the World's Fair, or 
the condition of the stock market, 
their theme, evidently, was some 
phase of occultism, a branch of science 
in which I am much interested, and 
into which my line of thought was, at 
that moment, running. 

I had a table d'hote acquaintance 
with both gentlemen; so, stopping, I 
asked, " Will you permit me to hear 
the answer to that question ? Mine is 
no idle curiosity." 

"Certainly. Of course," said Mr. 
Franc, " I have a satisfactory one, I 
think, which grew out of an episode 
in my early life; at least I think it 
worth the telling. 

"I'll give you the simple facts, leav- 
ing off the filagree and poetry, although 
there was enough of each about my 
hero to cover three hundred pages of 
a first-class novel. 

' ' When I first ' took a claim ' on 
what is now called Josephine's Creek, 
a small stream in Southern Oregon, I 
felt that I was in Pandemonium. I 
was only twenty, had left a refined 
home in Ohio to seek my fortune, and 
knew no more about the ' roughs ' 
and ' toughs ' that made up a miner's 
camp in those days than does a baby 
of theosophy . Every day brought .some 



new revelation of the depravity of the 
human race, as there represented ; and 
I would soon have lost my faith in my 
kind but for the presence of one man, 
who was known simply as 'Kentuck,' 
and about whom, dare-devil as he was, 
there was a fascination indescribable. 
Every word and movement was em- 
phatic. Swear ! I never heard such 
expletives as came from his lips, al- 
though, to his credit be it said, he 
never used the name of the Divine 

" He was of the Buffalo Bill type of 
physique, but much handsomer. He 
was as muscular as an athlete, and 
woe to the fellow who provoked a blow 
from his clenched fist ; for it proved a 
potent ' knock-down argument.' 

"There were vague, untraceable ru- 
mors in the air that he was an outlaw, 
and this belief was strengthened by 
the fact that he avoided all refer- 
ence to his early history ; and, as he 
seemed satistied with being known by 
the name 'Kentuck,' it was deemed 
expedient to gratify his whim. In 
those days it was considered too per- 
sonal to evince much anxiety about 
names. In truth, it would lead, some- 
times, to an ' unpleasantness, ' and, 
occasionally, to a funeral. 

' 'A trading-post had been established 
in an adjoining valley, which was the 
headquarters for all the miners in that 
vicinity, and they were many. Here, 
on Sundays, most of us went to settle 
our bills, lay in fresh supplies, ex- 
change items of news, and in too many 
cases drink and gamble away the pro- 
ceeds of the week's work. 

' ' One remarkable feature about Ken- 
tuck was that he never, while I was in 
camp with him, 'took a hand,' al- 
though he would watch the progress 
of a game as a cat does a mouse, and 
somehow no fellow dared prevent or 
resent it. 

" When drunk, which was not in- 
frequent, he would wander off, alone, 
as fierce as a wild boar, returning after 
a day or two, master of himself and of 
most every other fellow among us; for 
he was as magnetic as he was plucky. 

" There were times when his dialect 
was like that of the ' poor whites ' 
down South, a mixture of negro and 
Anglo-Saxon, and at others, but rarely 
(for he was seldom off guard), his 
phraseology was elegant. I never saw 
such a dual character as he presented. 
He seemed, however, utterly devoid of 
sentiment, and as cold, scoffing and 
relentless as a Mephistopheles. 

' ' The creek was simply ' The 
Creek ' at that time, no other name 
designating it. 

" One morning, while at work, we 
were surprised by the sudden appear- 
ance of a stranger, — a gentlemanly 
looking man, leading by the hand a 
little girl about nine or ten years old. 
All work was instantly suspended. If 
a winged cherub, just from Paradise, 
had lit upon the stone pile near by, the 
men could not have gazed upon it 
with more reverence and admiration 
than they did, for a few minutes, upon 
the face of that child. 

' ' The man's story was not an uncom- 
mon one for those times. He had 
started across the plains, that season, 
with a good outfit, a wife and three 
children, all full of hope of a happy 
home on the Pacific Slope. Sickness 
and accident had done their work. He 
reached Oregon City penniless and 
broken-hearted, with only this one 
child left to him to make Hfe endur- 

' ' ' The sole object with me, now, is 
to make enough money to get my lit- 
tle Josephine back among her kindred 
and friends,' he said, 'and I thought 
I could more readily do that in the 
mines than elsewhere.' 

' ' The miners, to their credit be it said, 
gave him a generous welcome. An un- 
occupied cabin was hastily fitted up 
and placed at his disposal, and before 
night the news had spread that ' a 
young lady ' and her father were liv- 
ing in ' Old Webfoot's den.' 

"Perhaps it was 'Kentuck's' ex- 
ample, perhaps it was the little speech 
he made around the mess fire where a 
few of the roughest of our crowd were 
assembled that first evening; but surely 



I never would have believed that the 
presence of a girl of such tender years 
could have created such a commotion 
among those irresponsible men as did 
that of little Josephine. 

" She was a prett}-, refined looking 
little creature, verj^ shy and timid at 
first ; but when she realized that every 
one whom she met had a smile and 
kind word for her all restraint and 
fear wore off, and she was as happy as 
a bird. 

"Her father, a quiet, broken-spirited 
man, found employment, at once, 
among the miners, at good wages, 
thanks to Kentuck, while 'little Jo- 
sephine,' as all called her, kept house 
after a child's fashion for him. 

" How those da3'S have impressed 
themselves upon my memory! Often, 
when the cabin was 'tidied up,' as 
she used to say, she would come and 
watch us at our work. Frequentl}' she 
would be invited to come on the claim 
and try a pan of dirt, ' to bring us 
good luck, you know,' as some of the 
boys would say, coaxingl}'. 

' ' She became quite an expert at ' pan- 
ning out ;' and, as a liberal pinch of 
gold dust was always surreptitiously 
dropped in the dirt she was prospect- 
ing, her morning calls often brought 
more to the common fund than her 
father's entire day's work. 

But one day news came that ' little 
Josephine's father,' the only name by 
which he was known, was ' down 
with the fever. ' 

"Poor man ! He was illy adapted for 
the hard life he was leading. It was 
wonderful how some of those rough 
fellows tried to lighten Josephine's 
care! One or another was in constant 
attendance upon him. Any delicacies 
that could be procured in the way of 
canned goods were to be found in his 
cabin; and a general feeling of relief 
pervaded the camp when it was known 
that ' he would soon be on his pegs 

' ' But he couldn't work a stroke, even 
when he had left his bunk, and we soon 
saw that he was sinking with discour- 

agement. During all this time Ken- 
tuck kept in the background as much 
as possible; but he was the prime mover 
in all that was done for the comfort of 
the sick man, and the protection of Jo- 
sephine from rough words or indelicate 
actions. Ever since her coming there 
had been a great change in him. We 
all saw but could not define it. Evi- 
dently some long-sleeping memories 
had been awakened, but of what na- 
ture I, for one, could not even con- 
jecture. He never spoke to Josephine 
but with uncovered head, and his e)'es 
would follow her with somewhat of a 
loving worship with w^hich a devotee 
looks upon the picture or statue of a 
saint. I noticed that he had never 
touched a drop of whisky since the 
pair had come. But few of the men in 
our immediate neighborhood possessed 
sensibilities sufficiently fine to com- 
prehend either this conundrum of a 
man or his motives ; and as so little 
was known of his antecedents he was 
always, more or less, an object of sus- 

" One evening, about six weeks after 
'little Josephine's' arrival, having 
been absent all da}-, Kentuck saun- 
tered into camp, about sundown, with 
a pair of dead jack rabbits slung across 
his shoulder. 

" ' They'll make a nice stew for the 
old man,' he said to me, nodding to- 
wards Webfoot's den, as he passed on 
to his own cabin. 

" A quiet-looking stranger of about 
Kentuck's age, 'hailing from Arkan- 
sas ' he said, had been loitering around 
the neighborhood all da}', prospecting, 
and at that hour was sitting on a 
stump, whittling. Kentuck, with a 
light step, strode past him, like a 
3'oung giant, without seeing him. 

' ' Not so the stranger. He sprang to 
his feet, looked after him with intense 
gaze until he had entered his caLin, 
and then approached me. 

' ' ' Who is he ? ' was the curt query. 
I was not at all reticent those daj'S, so 
with boj'ish eagerness I told all I 
knew (which was but little), uncon- 



sciously, I think, dwelling on his aflfec- 
tionate and chivalrous care of little 

' ' Among other proofs of his fine per- 
ceptions of propriety, I remember tell- 
ing him about Kentuck having one 
day given the girl a whistle which he 
had made, teUing her that he was a 
light sleeper, and that if anything 
went wrong in the cabin to blow on 
it and he would be sure to hear it and 
to come to her aid. 

" ' Where will he be to-night?' asked 
the stranger. 

" ' Can't tell,' I answered, for some- 
how the expression of the man's face 
at that moment puzzled me. I could 
not define it, but it awakened a sus- 
picion in my mind that Kentuck was 
the object. The stranger left me with- 
out further vv^ords. 

" That night was starless, and about 
nine o'clock I chanced to see Kentuck 
leave his cabin and go across the bar 
towards ' little Josephine's.' 

' ' Under other circumstances the in- 
cident would not have attracted my 
attention ; but my curiosity was now 
alert, and fearing, I knew not what, 
I determined to follow him. I did so 
noiselessly. I crept like a cat. 

"When within forty or fifty yards 
of Josephine's cabin, Kentuck seated 
himself, drew his pistol from his belt 
and laid it by his side, filled his pipe 
and seemed to have settled down for a 
good smoke. For about half an hour 
I watched him, when it occurred to 
me that he was keeping guard over 
little Josephine's cabin. 

' ' Fact, and it leaked out, afterwards, 
that such had been his habit ever since 
the child had come, 

"Ashamed of my suspicions, I was 
about creeping back as I had come, 
when I heard and saw Kentuck spring 
to his feet with a cry : 

" ' Halt ! Who goes there ? ' 
" I was not near enough to hear the 
reply, but soon the two were in con- 
versation, and once I was able to rec- 
ognize the voice of the Arkansas 

"It was not in my mortal man to 
resist the desire to know more about 
the two, so mysteriously connected, I 
felt ; so I listened, as best I could, by 
moving a little nearer. I could hear 
but snatches. The Arkansas man ad- 
dressed Kentuck by the name of Gas- 
ton. I gleaned that some time pre- 
viously a man had been shot and 
killed, and that his brother had offered 
a thousand dollars for the apprehen- 
sion of the murderer. Then I dis- 
tinctly heard the rich voice of Kentuck 
saying : 

" 'Burns, now's your chance for a 
cool thousand ; I'll surrender to you. 
lyife is not worth the living.' 
' ' The reply was : 

" 'No, I can't do it, old Pard. I 
found you merely by accident. In 
the words of a holier man than you or 
I, " Go, and sin no more." ' 

" I got back to my cabin somehow, 
and I felt as though I had been steal- 

"The stranger left the next morn- 
ing, and for days I avoided seeing 
Kentuck, but when I got a chance to 
grip his hand one evening I did it with 
an impulse of loyal comradeship that 
I could not resist, but which he could 
not understand. 

"One Sunday morning the usual 
crowd assembled at the store, with the 
exception of Kentuck, who was gen- 
erally the first to be there, and the last 
to leave. 

"The morning was half gone, and 
all possible surmises as to the cause of 
his absence discussed, before he made 
his appearance. He walked up to 
the bar, making no reply to the varied 
greetings which he received, until one 
of his friends said mockingly: 

" 'We concluded you had gone to 
church this morning, old boy.' 

" Waving aside the proffered bottle 
and glass he turned to him and said 
in a tone that attracted the attention 
of all : 

" 'Jim, I think I have been there.' 

"A dead silence followed the remark. 

The card players ceased their game, 



glasses remained untouched, and all 
were wondering if Kentuck had lost 
his senses, when he continued : 

"'Boys! I'll tell j'ou the whole 
story. lyittle Josephine's being here 
has set me to thinking more and more 
of a little sister whom I loved like my 
own life, and whom I left behind a 
good many 5'ears ago. If she is alive 
I know she is a woman now, and I'm 
not fit to be called her brother, but to 
me she'll always be a little girl, just 
about like Josephine. 

" ' I keep thinking how would I feel 
if I knew she was here, alone, amongst 
a lot of men like us and not a woman 
within fifty miles; — I understand all 
about that,' he said in reply to numer- 
ous angry glances directed towards 
him; ' I know there's not a man on 
the creek that would let any harm 
come to Josephine while he lived, if 
he could help it, but that's not the 
thing. She ought to be among her 
friends at home.' 

"He paused a minute and contin- 
ued, 'I came down by the cabin just 
now, and hearing some one talking I 
went up to the door, thinking some of 
our fellows were there; but boys, it 
was the old man praying, and she was 
on her knees by his side. He allowed 
he didn't care what became of him if 
his little girl was only back with her 
kindred once more, and he wanted 
help to see some way to get her there. 
" ' Now, boys, that was a good prayer 
and ought to be answered, and we are 
the ones to answer it. It's nothing to 
us but everything to her, and if we 
don't make up a purse that will take 
them back to the States we deserve 
never to pan out another color.' 

' ' The trader meanwhile had not been 
idle. He knew the kind of men with 
whom he had to deal. He saw what 
the result of ' Kentuck's sermon' (as 
it was afterward called) would be, and 
had taken down from his shelf one of 
the largest of his stock of miner's 
purses and arranged his gold scales 
for business. When Kentuck laid his 
purse of 'dust' on the counter, sav- 
ing, 'Weigh five out of that for 'a 

starter,' he went at it as though it was 
an every-day occurrence. Soon five 
ounces of the precious metal were trans- 
ferred; another purse w^as tossed on 
the counter with the request, 'do so 
to mine.' Some of the fellows were 
' strapped ' and would get their more 
fortunate friends to ' put up an ounce 
or two ' for them, until some sixty 
ounces in all were contributed. 

' ' Arrangements were made with a 
packer, who was to start for Portland 
the following morning, to see the 
father and daughter safely there; and 
much against his entreaties Kentuck 
was selected to call on the ' old man/ 
and to tell him what had been done. 

" 'I'd almost rather be drawn and 
quartered,' he said, and his perplexed 
countenance indicated his reluctance. 

" He found the two at the cabin, and 
after a few minutes talk about cinna- 
mon bears and jerked venison started 
to go away, then turning suddenly, 

" ' I came pretty near forgetting a 
message for you. Some of the boys 
thought that maybe the reason you 
didn't go back to the States before 
winter set in was because you were a 
little 'short,' so they chipped in a 
few pinches to make a home-stake for 
you, and as I came by the store they 
asked me to leave it here with you. 
The packer starts for Portland in the 
morning and would be mighty glad, 
he said, to have you go with him. If 
you do, you can get to 'Frisco in time 
for the next Panama steamer and be at 
home in less than a month. Without 
giving the completely overwhelmed 
man time to say a word, nor casting 
even a glance to Josephine, he hurried 

' ' But he had not gone ten yards be- 
fore the child had reached him. Tak- 
ing his horny hand in both her soft 
palms, while tears of joy ran down her 
cheeks, she exclaimed: 

"'Oh, Kentuck! I know it all. 
Something inside tells me. This is all 
your doing, and I will always pray to 
God to bless you;" and drawing his 
bearded face down to hers she kissed 



him between his ej^es and on his fore- 

' ' Unable to speak he rushed toward 
his cabin, and throwing himself on 
the floor cried like — like a woman. 
Fact, I saw him, but I doubt whether 
he had shed a tear before since he had 
been a child. He was a queer mix- 
ture! Most of the boys were on hand 
the next morning to give the travel- 
ers a good 'send-off,' Kentuck getting 
there just in time for a hurried good- 
bye, but no hand-shake. His face 
hadn't a bit of color in it, but no 
sooner were they out of sight than he 
turned and said: 

" 'The creek' 11 seem lonely without 
her, boys; she's left it forever, but 
let's keep the name here. Let's call 
it the 'Josephine;' and thus chris- 
tened—for love baptized it — it has re- 
mained to this day. I never saw that 
fellow, who had always before been 
the leader, as I said, in all the deviltry 
going on in the camp, — I never saw 
him smile until a letter came to the 
store in due time, written by Joseph- 
ine and addressed to him. It was 
the letter of an artless, affectionate 
child, expressing her gratitude to all 
the 'boys,' him particularly, and re- 
porting their safe arrival. Kentuck 
read it aloud in the store, put it in his 
blouse pocket, and I never again heard 
him mention her name. 

' ' However, I soon after left also, to 
try my fortune in another and distant 
field, and after a few years of hard 
'knocking around,' during which I 
heard nothing of my old comrades on 
Josephine Creek, the little incident, 
and the one man who had given my 
life a tinge of romance while there, 
seemed to have faded out. 

' ' It was about fifteen years after, 
when, with a company of surveyors, of 
whom I was one, we were obliged to 
make a week's halt, within a few miles 
I thought, of the locality of my first 
old mining camp. We had not been 
settled twenty-four hours when an un- 
controllable desire seized me to hunt 
up the old camp on the creek and see 
what its fortunes had been. It was 

winter, and the sky was murky when 
I began my wanderings, afoot. No 
one seemed inclined to accompany me, 
and I purpo.sed returning before night. 
You never saw an Oregon snow-squall, 
did you ? Well, it's about the sud- 
denest thing on earth but a quake. 
This one was no exception. In less 
than an hour I knew I was lost and 
my shouting didn't seem to go six 
feet from my mouth. Night came on. 
I was dazed and almost blinded, and 
seeing ahead of me what looked, in 
the twilight, Hke the roof of a cabin, I 
made for it. I had just strength left 
to kick the door open, when I fell, ex- 
hausted, but fortunately inside the 
doorway, and managed to close it. 

"Unconsciousness is sometimes a 
blessing in disguise. I awoke with 
my head as clear as a bell, but i 
couldn't move. My limbs seemed 
turned to stone. I had lost all idea of 
time, and it was as 'dark as Egypt.' 
I could move my fingers after some 
effort, and found myself still upon the 
floor where I had first fallen. I had 
no sensation of hunger nor cold, but 
that awful darkness and stillness was 

" Some expressions stand for nothing 
until one has realized their meaning. 
Such a one is, ' straining the ear to 
catch the shghtest sound.' I strained 
mine with an intensity that I would 
have thought impossible under other 
circumstances, but no sound greeted 
me. Perhaps I had been stricken blind 
and deaf, I thought, and I was about 
calling for help, when an indescribable 
fear of hearing my own voice overcame 
me. My eyes were wide open, as I said, 
and soon the vision of my past life, 
from my earliest childhood up to the 
moment of my recent leaving of my 
party, unrolled before me like a pano- 
rama. Fact! I never saw anything 
like it. The whole scene was more 
realistic than memory could possibly 
have produced. In it all, however, I 
realized that I was lying, rigid and 
almost motionless, upon a hard floor. 
Doubtless I was approaching a condi- 
tion of incipient insanity, I thought. 



Then a voice which I had not heard 
for years seemed to reach the most sen- 
sitive center of my being. It was as 
distinctly audible to my ear as is mine 
to yours, this minute, and the exclam- 
ation, ' Great God, Ken tuck, where 
are you?' burst from my lips. My 
own ears heard it, and I knew then 
that I was not dead. Circles of light, 
such as one sees behind the suddenly 
closed eyelids on a sunny day, were 
moving before me in a bewildering 
whirl, but threw no light or radiance 
on my surroundings. I was not terri- 
fied, but rather soothed. 

' 'Again Kentuck spoke, and I seemed 
to see liim (as I had seen the vision of 
my life) with his arms folded, and a 
tender smile upon his face, looking 
straight into mine. I cannot recall his 
clothing nor stature. I saw nothing 
but his handsome face, refined and col- 
orless, looking into mine as though he 
was talking to my soul. He said: 
' Do 5'ou know where you are ? This 
is old Webfoot's den, and you are 
snowed in. But help will come, have 
no fear. Find little Josephine; she is 
in San Francisco, Pacific Street, with 
her uncle, John Dunbar. Find her. 
I — have — expiated — my — crime — 
by — re — pent — ance — and — fa — ' 
The circles of light were growing less 
and less in size and intensity, and as 
the voice failed to impress itself upon 
mj^ ear soon all again was darkness 
and stillness, and I seemed to relapse 
into my previous unconsciousness. 

"I'll tell you, I wouldn't go through 
that experience again for any man's 
millions, and yet I was not frightened. 
I cannot analyze it." 

"And who found you?" I asked, 
for up to that period of the story nei- 
ther of us listeners had spoken. 

"The men of my party. I had been 
there forty-eight hours. Would you 
have believed it ? I was a week get- 
ting over what I thought was a sort of 
cataleptic attack, or something like it." 
'• 'And the place! Was it, indeed, 
old Webfoot's den ? ' 

" It was. We afterward explored 
the old camp, for the snow soon melted. 

There little Josephine and her father 
had lived their brief stay with us, and 
behind it, not forty feet from the east 
bank of the creek, was a mound, near 
a clump of young pines, and on the 
head-board, roughly but deeply carved, 
was the name, 

" 'Kentuck' — 1858. 

" When I read it my hair stood on 
end with a sudden horror, for surely, 
I thought, with his spirit released from 
his body, where might it not wander ! 
I said nothing about my 'vision' — 
as I called it in my own mind — for 
months, but I resolved that if ever I 
got to San Francisco again I would 
find out if such a man as John Dunbar 
lived in it. It was nearly a year be- 
fore I had the opportunity, but I found 
him, and ' little Josephine,' his beau- 
tiful niece and housekeeper, was there 
sure enough. S/ie's viine now, has 
been my wife and home-maker for 
many long and happj' years ; and but 
for 'Kentuck,' whether in the body 
or out of the body I know not, I'd 
surely never have found her." 

' ' ' Then you must believe that your 
'vision' was no mere hallucination,' " 
said the gentleman who had opened the 
conversation, and who had been even 
more than I a most interested listener. 

' ' Believe ! I know it was not. The 
facts prove it. I have given them to 
you, as I said at the beginning, with- 
out any varnish of the imagination. 

'' My wife did not know for some 
years after having left ' the creek ' 
that Mr. Dunbar, who had been shot 
over a game of cards while preceding 
the rest of his family across the plains, 
was the brother of her father. 

" She says that next to me she be- 
lieves in her heart of hearts she loves 
best Kentuck, who is her ideal of per- 
fect manhood. Strange, is it not ? 
Poor fellow ! He must have died soon 
after I left the camp. 

' ' Maybe the two worlds, the Seen 
and the Unseen, overlap each other, 
and the purified Kentuck of my night 
in old Webfoot's den is nearer to me 
now than he could have been while in 
' the flesh.' " 


By Charles F. Lummis. 

HKRE is one 
Acoma*. It is 
a class by itself. 
The peer of it 
is not in the 
world. I might 
call it the Que- 
res Gibraltar ; 
but Gibraltar 
is a pregnable 
place beside it. 
It is the Quebec 
,, J J , _ _ of the south- 
^; 7i^c^g>5^J west ; but Que- 
'\f^' bee could be 
,#^iii»/m|H|Mj'ij|||pl'''' ' stormed three 
iiJly' times while an 
army climbed 
Acoma unopposed. If as -a defensible 
town there be no standard whereby to 
measure it, comparison is still more 
hopeless when we attack its impreg- 
nable beauty and picturesqueness. 
It is the garden of the gods mul- 
tiplied by ten, and with ten equal but 
other wonders thrown in ; and with 
a human interest, an archaeological 
value, an atmosphere of romance and 
mystery that would have maddened 
Ruskin, Humboldt and Hawthorne, 
it is a labyrinth of wonders of which 
no person alive knows all, and of which 
not six white men have even an ade- 
quate conception, tho' hundreds have 
seen it in part. The longest visit 
never wears out its glamor ; one feels 
as in a strange, sweet, unearthly dream, 
— as among scenes and beings more 
than human, whose very rocks are 
genii, and whose people are swart con- 
jurors. It is spendthrift of beauty. 
There are half a hundred cattle and 
sheep corrals, whose surroundings 
would be the fortune of as many sum- 
mer-resorts in the East, and scores of 
untrodden cliff-sentineled gorges far 

grander yet. If there is any sight 
in the world which will cling to one, 
undimmed by later impressions, it is 
the first view of Acoma and its val- 
ley from the mesa f as one comes in from 
the west. After the long, slow slope 
among the sprawling cedars, one stands 
suddenly upon a smooth divide, look- 
ing out upon such a scene as is no- 
where else. A few rods ahead, the 
mesa breaks down in a swift cliff of six 
hundred feet to a valley that seems 
surely enchanted. A grassy trough, 
five miles wide and ten in visible 
length, smooth with that ineffable 
hazy smoothness which is only of the 
southwest, crowded upon by noble pre- 
cipices, patched with exquisite hues of 
rocks and clays and growing crops,— 
it is such a vista as would be impossi- 
ble outside the arid lands. And in its 
midst lies a shadowy world of crags 
so unearthly beautiful, so weird, so 
unique, that it is hard for the onlooker 
to believe himself in America, or 
upon this dull planet at all. As the 
evening shadows play hide and seek 
among those towering sandstones it is 
as if an army of Titans marched across 
the enchanted plain. To the left bee- 
tles the vast cliff of Kat-zi mo, or the 
Mesa Encantada, the noblest single 
rock in America; to the right, the tall 
portals of two 'fine canons, — them- 
selves treasure-houses of wonders; be- 
tween, the chaos of the buttes that flank 
the superb mesa of Acoma. That is one 
grand rock— a dizzy air-island above 
the plain — three hundred and fifty- 
five feet high, seventy acres in area 
upon its irregular but practically level 
top, — a stone table upheld by ineffable 
precipices which are not merely per- 
pendicular but in great part actually 
overhanging. The contour of those 
cliffs is an endless enchantment. They 

♦ Pronounced Ah-co-mah, accent on first syllable. +Table-land with cliflf sides. 



are broken by scores of marvelous bays, 
scores of terrific columns and pinna- 
cles, crags and towers. There are doz- 
ens of ' ' natural ' ' bridges, from one of a 
fathom's span to one so sublime, so 
crushing in its savage and enormous 
grandeur, that the heart fairly stops 
beating at first sight of it. There are 
strangest standing rocks and balanced 
rocks, vast potreros and fairy minarets, 
wonderlands of recesses, and mysteri- 
ous caves. It is the noblest specimen 
of fantastic erosion on the continent. 
Everywhere there is insistent sug- 
gestion of Assyrian sculpture in its 
rocks. One might fancy it a giant 
Babylon, water-worn to dimness. The 
peculiar cleavage of its beautiful sand- 
stone has hemmed it with strange top- 
heavy statues that guard grim chasms. 
The invariable approach of visitors is 
to the tamest side of the mesa; and 
that surpasses what one shall find else- 
where. But to outdo one's wildest 
dreams of the picturesque, one should 
explore the whole circumference of the 
mesa, which not a half a dozen Ameri- 
cans have ever done. No one has ever 
exhausted Acoma; — those who know 
it best are forever stumbling upon new 

Upon the bare table-top of this 
strange stone island of the desert, seven 
thousand feet above the level of the 
sea, stands a town of matchless inter- 
est, — the home of half a thousand 
quaint lives, and of half a thousand 
years' romance. How old is that 
mysterious sky city no man may 
know. In the far gray past Acoma 
stood atop the Mesa Encantada, three 
miles north ; but a mighty throe of 
nature toppled down the vast ladder- 
rock which gave vSole adit to that dizzy 
perch, — twice as high as the now Aco- 
ma. The people were left homeless 
in the plain, where they were tending 
their crops; and three doomed women, 
left at home, were shut aloft to perish 
upon the accursed cliff. But when the 
Spanish world-finders saw this magic 
valley the present Acoma was already 
an ancient city, from whose eternal 
battlements the painted natives looked 

down upon the mailed invaders as 
many hundreds of feet as centuries 
have since then faded. There stand, 
so far aloft, the quaint homes of five 
hundred people — three giant blocks of 
stone and adobe, running east and 
west near a thousand feet, and sky- 
ward fort)^ — and their huge church. 
When one has climbed the mesa to the 
town and grasped its proportions, 
wonder grows to a daze. No other 
town in the world is reached only by 
such vertiginous trails, or rather by 
such ladders of the rock ; and yet up 
these awful paths the patient Queres 
have brought upon their backs every 
timber, every stone, every bit of adobe 
mud to build that strange city and its 
marvelous church. There are timbers 
fourteen inches square and forty feet 
long, brought by human muscle alone 
from the mountains twenty miles away. 
The church walls are sixty feet high 
and ten feet through ; and the build- 
ing covers more ground than any mod- 
ern cathedral in the United States. 
The graveyard in front, nearly two 
hundred feet square, took forty years 
in the building ; for first the gentle 
toilers had to frame a giant box with 
stone walls, a box forty feet deep at 
the outer edge, and then to fill it 
backful by backful with earth from 
the far plain. In the weird stone lad- 
ders the patient moccasined feet of 
forgotten centuries have sunk their 
imprint six inches deep in the rock. 
Antiquity and mystery haunt every 
nook. The very air is hazy with ro- 
mance. How have they lived and 
loved and suffered here in their sky- 
ward home, these quiet Hano Oshash, 
—the Children of the Sun ! 

Acoma is thirteen miles south of 
the Atlantic & Pacific Railroad, in 
the western half of New Mexico. The 
best stations from which to reach it 
are I,aguna (its daughter pueblo) and 
McCarty's, from either of which 
places an Indian may be procured to 
transport the visitor by farm- wagon. 

Acoma figures in our very first 
knowledge of the southwest ; and the 
earliest European eyes that ever saw 

The Stone Stairway. 



it marveled as we marvel yet. In 
spite of the closet historians, Cabeza 
de Vaca never saw New Mexico, which 
was discovered only by the heroic 
Franciscan, Fray Marcos of Nizza,* 
in 1539. He was the first civilized 
man who ever looked upon that strang- 
est landmark of our antiquity, a pueblo 
town. But he never got beyond the 
pueblos of Zuiii, — the famed " Seven 
Cities of Cibola" — though he heard 
ofAcoma. In 1540 the most remarka- 
ble of all explorers of America, Fran- 
cisco Vasquez de Coronado, saw Zuiii, 
and a little later came to the more 
wondrous town of which the Zufiis 
had told him, — Ha-cu-que, Ah-co, A- 
coma. Of its salient wonders he has 
left us a very accurate description. We 
may well imagine that the awestruck 
savages were no more astounded at 
their first sight of fair-faced strangers 
than were the latter at that thrice- 
wondrous town. There were grizzled 
veterans there who had been with the 
great Captain Cortez in his matchless 
conquest of the southern wonderland ; 
but they had never found anything 
like this. The adobe city of Motecu- 
zoma, in the bloody lake of Tezcuco, — 
it was bigger, but what was it to this 
sky-built citadel ? That with its strong 
walls and narrow dykes was ill enough 
to storm, and worse to retreat from ; 
but what would be a Noche Triste 
among these grim cliffs ? Fortunately, 
there was no need to learn. The Aco- 
mas received the wondrous strangers 
kindly, taking them for gods ; and 
Coronado and his heroic little band 
pressed on unmolested to the Rio 
Grande and to their unprecedented 
march of exploration in chase of the 
gilded myth of the Gran Quivira. 

It was near half a century after 
Coronado's gallant but ill-starred ex- 
ploits before the adventurous Span- 
iards were again tempted to the 
discouraging deserts of our southwest. 
Truly there was little enough to tempt 
them. Utterly disappointed in the 

• Facts first established by Bandelier's exhaustive 

golden legends which had led them ta- 
such rovings as no other race ever par- 
alleled anywhere, for (again in despite 
of the arm-chair historians) all tales of 
rich Spanish mines in New Mexico 
and Arizona are absolutely untrue, 
and, finding almost as little of other 
attractions as of gold, they long de- 
voted themselves to the more grateful 
countries to our south. It was not 
until that preeminent figure among 
the colonizers of America, the un- 
spoiled millionaire Juan de Ofiate, 
came with his five hundred thousand 
dollar expedition, that permanent 
work began to he done in New 
Mexico; though before him, and after 
Coronado, Chamuscado, Espejo and 
de Sosa had made notable successive 
explorations here. In 1581 Espejo 
visited Acoma, and there saw the 
astounding snake- dance which now 
survives alone in remote Moqui, — a 
dance wherein the half-naked per- 
formers bear living, mortal rattle- 
snakes in their hands and mouths. 
Espejo also was treated in Acoma, 
and gave us a good description of its 
wonders, though his guess at the 
population was as wild as his guesses 
at the other pueblos. He was the one 
glaring exception to the painstaking 
accuracy of the Spanish explorers in 
their chronicles of wonders seen. 

The first real foothold of Europeans 
in Acoma was achieved in 1598, when 
the Acomas voluntarily submitted 
themselves to the authority of Oiiate 
and became vassals of the Spanish 
crown, swearing to the Act of Obedi- 
ence, whose purport was fully ex- 
plained to them. But the submission 
was not in good faith. The Indians 
had no idea of real surrender ; but 
these stranger Men-of Power might not 
be openly opposed, and it was best 
to move by treachery. The war cap- 
tains had already laid their plans to 
entrap and sla}^ Ofiate, believing that 
his death would materially weaken the 
Spaniards. But Oiiate' s lucky star 
led him out of the unsuspected danger; 
and with his wee army he proceeded 
on that grim desert march to Moqui. 



Scarcely had he gone when his lieu- 
tenant, Juan de Zaldivar, arrived with 
a dozen men from a vast journey. The 
Acomas enticed them up into the town, 
fell upon them by daylight, and bun- 
gled them to death with clubs and fimt 
knives. Five bleeding heroes leaped 
down the ghastly cliflf,— a leap unpar- 
alleled. Wonderful to tell, only one 
was killed by that incredible fall ; the 

whom less than threescore were en- 
gaged in the assault— on the bloody 
22d, 23d and 24th of January, 1599. 
The forcing of that awful cliff, the 
three days' death-struggle hand-to- 
hand, the storming of that fortress- 
town, room by savage room, time 
records nothing more desperately brill- 
iant. These smooth, gray rocks, 
whereon I dream to-day, were sUp- 

Old Church at Acoma. 

remaining four lived, and finally es- 

In the following month— as soon as 
the weak Spanish resources could be 
marshaled— Onate sent a little band 
to punish treacherous Acoma. Never 
did soldiers march to a forlornerhope; 
and never in all history was there a 
greater feat of arms than the storming 
of that impregnable rock by Vicente 
^e Zaldivar with seventy men— of 

pery —red then with the life-blood of 
a thousand heroes ; for here Greek 
met Greek, and ghastly nvulets ran 
down the hollows and trickled over 
the cliff to the thirsty valley. This 
drowsy air was split with the war-cry 
of Santiago and the shrill enemy yell 
of the Hero brothers ; and where yon 
naked babes sport dimpled in a dimp- 
ling pool, stark warriors wallowed in 
a grimmer bath, and gasped from 



dying lips undying hate. Over yon 
dizzy brink I toss unanswering peb- 
bles to the deep plain, where mad- 
dened savages sprang forth to death 
in spatters. And where yon statu- 
esque maiden walks placidly, a great 
gay tinaja of water perched upon her 
shapely head, a gray, tattered, bleed- 
ing Spaniard received the surrender of 
the scant remnant of crushed Acoma, 
In the precious epic left by Villagran, 
the soldier poet, who was pars magna 
of those bitter days, we have still a long 
and graphic description of a heroism 
which history could ill afford to lose. 

Thirty years later there was another 
capture of Acoma, as remarkable and 
as heroic as Zaldivar's marvelous as- 
sault, but with other weapons. In 
that year of 1629 came the apostle of 
the Acomas, brave, gentle Fray Juan 
Ramirez, walking his perilous way 
alone from distant Santa Fe. His 
new parishioners received him with a 
storm of arrows. There is a current 
legend that they threw him off the 
cliff, and that his priestly robes up- 
held him miraculously and saved his 
life ; but this is a myth without foun- 
dation of fact. It probably sprang, 
partly, from confusion with the mar- 
velous and real escape of Oiiate's four 
men, and partly from a misunder- 
standing of the Indian folk-lore. The 
undaunted Franciscan faced the wrath 
of the savages, and finally won their 
hearts. For a score of years he lived 
alone among them, taught them to 
read and write, and led them to Chris- 
tianity. The first church in Acoma, 
built two centuries and a half ago, 
was one of the monuments of this as 
noble and successful a missionary as 
ever lived. 

And then came the awful month of 
Santana, 1680, when the Pueblo thun- 
derbolt burst from a clear sky upon the 
doomed Spaniards. Nowhere else in 
the history of the United States was 
there ever such a massacre of Cauca- 
sians by Indians as on that red loth of 
August. More than a score of devoted 
missionaries, more than four hundred 
heroic Spanish colonists, were butch- 

ered then, in a blow that fell all across 
New Mexico at once; and the pitiful 
remnant of the invader was driven from 
the land. In Acoma was then the 
good Franciscan, Fray Lucas Maldo- 
nado. How his treacherous flock fell 
upon the lone martyr; if they thrust 
him off the wild precipice that girt his 
parish, or beat out~life from the quiv- 
ering clay with clubs and stones, or 
spilt it from gashes with the cruel flint 
knife, we may never know. All that 
is left to us is the knowledge that he was 
slaughtered here, and here fills an un- 
known grave; and that the dearly built 
temple of the white God was razed to- 
the earth. With it went the thumbed 
church-books, that would have been 
so precious to history and to romance 

When Diego de Vargas, the re-con- 
queror, took back New Mexico in 1692, 
Acoma surrendered at once to his for- 
midable force of two hundred men. In 
1696 the high-perched pueblo again 
rebelled. Vargas marched against it, 
but could not storm the deadly rock; 
and the rebellion was never punished. 
The Acomas, however, seeing all the 
other pueblos submitting to the humane 
invader, gradually relented from their 
defiance and fell into line. The mis- 
sion was re-established, and the church 
rebuilt, about the year 1700. Since 
then the quaint town has dwelt in 
peace. In 1728 was the last attempt 
at a pueblo uprising, but in that 
Acoma was not concerned; and the 
Franciscan Fathers labored undis- 
turbed in their lonely field. The last 
Franciscan in New Mexico, Fray 
Mariano de Jesus Lopez, was priest of 
Acoma more than a generation ago. 
He it was who settled the strange quar- 
rel between Acoma and Laguna over 
the possession of the oil painting of 
San Jose, presented by Charles II. of 
Spain to the Indians three-quarters of 
a century before, — a remarkable case, 
which figures interestingly in the 
reports of the Supreme Court of New 
Mexico. The good old fraile met death 
by the accidental discharge of a vener- 
able pistol. 



Laguna, by the way,— itself a very 
interesting spot, directly upon the A. 
& P. R. R., where its strange architec- 
ture is the wonder of thousands of trav- 
elers,— is the newest of all the pueblos. 
It was founded July 4, 1699, by refu- 
gees from Aconia (which contributed 
a large majority) Zia and Cochiti. 
I.ater it received recruits also from 

The people of Acoma are quaint as 
their remarkable city. In their very 
simplicity breathes an atmosphere of 
the mysterious. Tangibly they are 
plain, industrious farmers, strongly 

The dark storerooms in their curious 
houses are never empty; and in the 
living-rooms hang queer tasajos (twists) 
of dried muskmelon for dwarf pies, 
bags of dried peaches for the same end, 
jerked mutton from their own flocks, 
jerked venison from the communal 
hunt, parched chile, and other staples. 
In a corner is always the row of slop- 
ing lava slabs, neatly boxed about, 
whereon the blue corn is rubbed to 
meal with a smaller slab. Along the 
walls hang buckskins and moqui- 
woven mantas,* cougar-skin bow- 
cases beside the Winchester, coral 

Bird's-eye View of Acoraa. 

Egyptian in their methods despite the 
steel plow and the Studebaker wagon 
of recent adoption. Their lands are 
05 791 acres, confirmed by XJ. S. pat- 
ent. Of this area the great majority 
is available only for grazing ; but the 
valley wherein the mesa stands, the 
well-watered valley of the San Jose, 
twelve miles northwest, wherein is 
their summer pueblo of Acomita, and 
some minor areas, are threaded with 
irrigating ditches, and rustle with corn 
and wheat, chile, beans and wee peach 
orchards and melon patches. Their 
crops are adequate. They have enough 
to eat, enough to sell for luxuries. 

necklaces and solid silver necklaces, 
the work of their own clever smiths, 
and many other aboriginal treasures 
The cleanly and comfortable wool 
mattresses are rolled and laid on 
benches with handsome and often 
costly Navajo blankets, for a daytime 
sofa By night they are unrolled upon 
rugs or canvases on the floor. In one 
corner is the wee but efi-ective adobe 
fireplace, with chimney generally of un- 
bottomed earthen jars, and in another 
a row of handsome tinajas, painted m 
strange patterns, full of fresh water. 

♦ Dress of Pueblo women. 



Outside, the house is even more 
picturesque. Each building is solid 
for several hundred feet, but cut by 
cross- walls into separate little homes 
which never have interior communi- 
cation with each other. The block is 
three stories high, with a sheer wall 
behind, but terraced in front so that it 
looks like a flight of three gigantic 
steps. Save in a very few cases of re- 
cent innovation, there are no doors to 
the lower floor ; and the only entrance 
to a house is by ladder to the roof of 
the first story, well back upon which 
the second story opens. The only en- 
trance to the first story is through a 
tiny trap-door in the floor of the sec- 
ond and down a ladder. The third 
story and the utmost roof are reached 
by queer little steps on the division 
walls. The doors are nearly all very 
tiny, and the windows, save of a few 
spoiled houses, are merely big sheets 
of translucent gypsum, set solidly into 
the opening. 

The costumes of the people are 
strikingl}^ picturesque and even hand- 
some. That of the women in par- 
ticular is Oriental, characteristic and 
modest. Not only that, but it is cost- 
ly. These quiet folks, whose facial 
appearance is generally comely, are 
far from naked savages. 

The main mesa of Acoma is an in- 
dented oval ; but at the south it is 
half yoked by an impassable hyphen 
of crags to a similar and equally noble 
mesa. So the whole rock, at a bird's- 
eye view, strikingly resembles, in 
shape, a pair of bowed spectacles. 
There are no dwellings on the south- 
ern mesa ; but thither leads — down 
the side of the crag-hyphen and up 
again — a trail, deep worn in the rock, 
to the great reservoir, chief of the 
countless hollows which serve Acoma 
for water-works. This reservoir— a 
picturesquely beautiful cavity in the 
solid rock — should be seen at sunrise, 
when the strange lights and shadows, 
the clear image of its bluff walls in 
the mirror of a lakelet, make it a vis- 
ion never to be forgotten. On the 
main mesa are a great many somewhat 

similar tanks, large and small ; the 
natural capacity of the larger ones is 
increased by damming. Those near- 
est the houses are used as the town 
washtubs for clothing and children, 
— for the Acomas are very cleanly, — 
and the farther ones for drinking- 
water, of which the great tank on the 
south mesa, however, furnishes the 
main supply. In the high, dry air of 
this altitude, these natural stone reser- 
voirs keep the rain-water cool and 
fresh the whole year around ; and the 
supply almost never fails. When it 
does, there are fine springs in the 
plain whereupon to draw. Every drop 
of water used in the houses is brought 
by the women in three to five gallon 
tinajas upon their heads, — an exercise 
which may be largely responsible for 
the superb necks and chests and the 
confident poise of head notable among 
all Pueblo women. There is no more 
picturesque sight than the long file of 
these comely maids and matrons 
marching homeward in the sunset 
glow with their careless head-burdens. 

Across the far, smooth valley the 
curling gramma is dotted with broad 
herds of horses, cattle, burros; and 
back in the surrounding wilder- 
ness of table-lands are great flocks 
of sheep. Nightly, as the sun falls 
back upon the huge black pillow 
of the Mesa Prieta, the hundreds of 
horses and burros are driven to the 
mesa's top by a new trail which has 
been builded with infinite toil since 
peace came. By the old trails— which 
suSiced the town for unknown centu- 
ries — not even a goat could mount the 
giant rock. 

Such, to the casual sight, are the 
folk of Acoma, and such their sur- 
roundings; but, as one looks, there 
grows consciousness of the mystery 
within. Here and there are window- 
less rooms, reached only by a trapdoor 
in the roof and by a tall, rude ladder 
topped with mystic symbols. No 
stranger may enter there; but white- 
headed principales climb in and out, 
and strange muflBed songs float off 
over the housetops far into the night, 



with now and then the dull beat of the 
tombe; and now and then is the 
watcher aware of an invisible spiral of 
smoke curling above the dark hatch- 
■^ay, — from the sacred fire that never 
died nor ever shall. When Pa-yat-ya- 
ma, the Sun Father, shows his ruddy 
face above the eastern mesas, and 
again when he sinks into the dark 
ridges of the west, there are stirless 
human statues upon the housetops 
that show for more than careless look- 
outs. In the houses are mysterious 
symbols which the stranger dare not 
touch. In wild cave shrines above and 
below the cliffs are thousands of un- 
knowable sticks tufted with downy 
feathers, miniature bows and arrows 
like those of Mau-sa-we and 0-ya-we, 
and wee imitations of the magic hoop. 
Quaint, tiny parcels of the sacred 
corn-meal, wrapped and tied with the 
precious husk, are stowed everywhere 
in crannies of the infinite rocks. 
Everywhere are these hints of solemn 
mysteries, into which the visitor will 
do well not to pry. In a dizzy eyrie 
of the southern mesa, safe enough 
from the inquisitive, is perched a per- 
fect cliff-house,— startling link back to 
antiquity. Few strangers have ever 
seen it; few ever will, for the climbing is 
a neck's worth; but there it is, gray, im- 
passive relict of the Forgotten. There 
are strange, symbolic footraces and 
stranger dances, the least of which the 
world may see on the feast of San Es- 
ceban, the patron saint of Acoma, 
Sept. 2d, and on other holy days ; but 
upon the chief ones no stranger has 
ever looked. They are more secret 
than the Inquisition. 

Beside the sun-seared graveyard, 
where the dead of centuries sleep un- 
mindful that their crowded bones are 
jostled by each newcomer unto rest, 
is a miniature mountain of breakage. 

If you watch when the still form, 
swathed in its costliest blanket, has 
been lowered into its narrow bed; 
when upon the earthen coverlet has 
been broken the symbolic jar of water; 
when from the tottering belfry has 
pealed the last silver clang of the high 
bell with its legend, "San Pedro, ano 
1 710;" when the wailing mourners 
have filed away to the desolate house 
where the Shamans are blinding the 
eyes of the ghosts, that they may not 
find the trail of the evanished soul on 
its four-days' journey to Shi-pa-pu, — 
then you shall see borne forth jars and 
handmills and weapons and ornaments 
and clothing, to be broken and rent 
upon the killing-place, that they may 
go on with their departed owner. 
When old men meet and part you may 
see that each takes the other's hand to 
his mouth and breathes from it; and 
that when they smoke they blow the 
first six puffs to different directions. 
Every man wears a little pouch which 
money will not unlock. Each knows 
words which he may not utter aloud 
in any finite presence. Each has go- 
ings out and comings in which none 
must spy upon. 

And so at every turn there are hints 
and flashes of the unknown and the 
unknowable, the pettiest of which you 
shall try in vain to fathom. Their 
marvelous mythology, their infinitely 
complicated social, religious and polit- 
ical economies, their exhaustless and 
beautiful folk-lore,— of all you shall 
everywhere find clues, but nowhere 
knowledge. And as the rumbling 
farm-wagon jolts you back from your 
enchanted dream to the prosy wide- 
awake of civihzation, you shall go to 
be forever haunted by that unearthly 
cliflF, that weird city, and their un- 
guessed dwellers. 


By W. a. Elderkin, U. S. A. 

JOHN BODKIN was a bachelor,— 
"an incorrigible, stingy, mean old 
bachelor, ' ' according to the general 
opinion of the ' ' Good Samaritan' ' Soci- 
ety, which was composed mainly of un- 
wedded ladies of uncertain age. Not 
that any one of them had ever desired to 
marry John Bodkin — no, indeed! —not 
if he were the last man on earth, which, 
thank Heaven, he was not! The idea 
of any intelligent woman with two 
eyes in her head, and a proper sense of 
self-respect, ever wishing to be the wife 
of such an insipid, commonplace crea- 
ture, was too absurd! — and yet, some- 
how, it happened that whenever John 
Bodkin passed along on the other side 
of the street a constellation of ej^es 
appeared at the windows of the Society 
rooms, beaming upon him curiously, 
as day after day he stopped in front of 
the widow Marvin's house to talk with 
Maria over the gate. 

"Goodness gracious!" said one, 
*' He's old enough to be her father! " 

' ' Well ! ' ' exclaimed another, ' ' I 
cannot see, for the life of me, what 
attraction he can find in that silly 
girl! " 

" Oh! " said a third, who had once 
been a teacher in the high school, ' 'De 
gustibus non est disputayiduin! "" and 
she actually laughed, but it was a 
weak, sickly laugh, and a deep sigh 
followed it. 

" For pity's sake! " chirped in an- 
other with faded red hair, " why (1011' t 
he go into the house, and not do his 
courting over the fence ? ' ' 

" I think he shows excellent judg- 
ment in that respect," said Miss Sour- 
beigh, dryly. " If I were a man and 
had to court a freckled girl, like that 
one over there, the higher the fence 
the better! " — at which humorous re- 
mark all smiled and took another 
lingering look at Mrs. Marvin's front 

Then, one by one, the gentle cavilers 
turned away from the windows and 
resumed their needlework in silence, 
and the world was again permitted to 
roll around as usual. 

John Bodkin was a healthy, pros- 
perous man. He had commenced at 
the foot of the ladder, as most pros- 
perous men do, and had worked his 
way up to the topmost round, — becom- 
ing one of the leading spirits of the 
town in financial, political and even 
religious matters; and now at the age 
of forty-five he was a bank director, a 
merchant, a county supervisor, and a 
pillar of the church. 

But with all John Bodkin's attain- 
ments he had never yet attained to 
matrimony, nor had he ever evinced 
the slightest inclination in that direc- 
tion until this Marvin girl came to 
town. If he walked home from church 
w4th a lady, it was sure to be some 
ancient dowager, or the minister's wife, 
perhaps, who was everybody's friend. 
If he appeared in society, which was a 
rare occurrence, he devoted himself en- 
tirely to the older married ladies. If 
he visited a church fair or ' ' sociable, ' ' 
he conversed with matrons, or talked 
politics with men, to the utter neglect 
of everybody else. 

So it may be easily understood that, 
among the marriageable ladies of the 
serene little town, Mr. John Bodkin 
had long ago been voted a misogamist 
of the deepest dye, a man utterly de- 
void of romantic feeling, impression- 
less and cold ; and now, at this late 
day, after ignoring, for years, the 
charms of various maidens who 
were but little younger than himself, 
and who — goodness knows ! — were 
socially, intellectually and morally 
good enough for any ' ' Bodkin' ' that 
ever drew breath, to see him making 
up to a young upstart of a girl like 
Maria Marvin, hardly out of her 



♦•teens," and as red-headed as ever 
Jezebel dared to be, was just a little 
more than flesh and blood could bear ! 
Mr. Bodkin had a most aggravating 
habit of minding his own business ; 
and that made matters all the more 
exasperating to the Good Samaritans, 
who were waiting and watching for 
retribution. If he would only say 
something about somebody, or do 
something a little out of the straight 
path ! If they could only connect his 
name with some dark mystery ! or 
implicate him in some way with some- 
thing horrid,— no matter what ! How 
they would pounce upon him ! and, 
having humbled him in the dust, how 
much more comfortable and resigned 
they would feel. 

Little did they imagine that their 
hour of triumph was so near at hand; 
and little did John Bodkin dream that 
his fair name and reputation were soon 
to be in jeopardy. 

Like the traditional bachelor of 
Mother Goose, Mr. Bodkin lived by 
himself. His residence was in the 
fashionable part of town ; but it was 
only a plain, brick cottage after all, 
with a veranda and a few shade trees 
in front. The only inmate of Mr. 
Bodkin's house, besides himself, was 
Mrs. Smiley, a motherly, good old 
woman, wrinkled and gray and meek, 

a pattern of neatness and thrift, 

whose morality and cookery were be- 
yond reproach. 

She was Mr. Bodkin's housekeeper, 
laundress, chambermaid, cook, wait- 
ress, "bell-boy" and scullion. She 
prepared and served his meals, sewed 
on his refractory buttons, mended and 
brushed his clothes, darned his socks, 
built his fires, blacked his boots, and 
kept his house in general good order ; 
from which it may be inferred that 
Mr. Bodkin was a thrifty man and 
lived very much within his means, as 
thrifty men always do. 

Mr. Bodkin had one very peculiar 
trait, however, which should be men- 
tioned before this story proceeds 
further. He hated babies, that is, 
"little bits" of babies who could 

neither walk nor talk nor understand. 
After they became old enough to com- 
prehend the difference between a hoe 
and a haystack, and could run and 
romp and shout, he could endure them; 
but little, sour, red, drooling, tooth- 
less babies, he could not abide ; and 
he would no more go near one, much 
less touch it, than be would a hornet's 

One evening, in the blustering 
month of March, as Mr. Bodkin sat 
quietly eating his supper, the door- 
bell rang. Now it was a very unu- 
sual event for John Bodkin's door-bell 
to ring ; and as Mrs. Smiley came in 
hastily from the kitchen she seemed 
very much astonished, and looked at 
Mr. Bodkin in a wondering sort of 
way and hesitated, — being in grave 
doubt as to what course would be most 
prudent in such an emergency. 

"If it's any one to see me, Mrs. 
Smiley, you may ask them into the 
library," said Mr. Bodkin, helping 
himself complacently to another sau- 
sage and trying to appear very uncon- 
cerned, though, in truth, he was 
dying to know who could possibly be 
at the door on such a night. 

Mrs. Smiley did not quite like the 
way in which Mr. Bodkin emphasized 
the word " w<? ;" but she proceeded 
to obey orders, not forgetting to ad- 
just her apron and smooth her hair a 
little as she went through the hall to 
open the door. 

It was only a small boy with a note. 
Mrs. Smiley took the note and, after 
telling the urchin to come into the 
hall and wait for an answer, hastened 
to deliver it to Mr. Bodkin, who opened 
it and read, as follows : 

Wednesday Evening. 

Dear Mr. Bodkin : 

Miss De Sharp is coming 
in to sing for us this evening. Do come 
down if not otherwise engaged. Quite in- 
fo mal, you know,— no other company. 
Please send verbal answer by bearer, and 
dont you dare to say no. 

With kindest regards, 

Mrs. Marvin. 

Mr. Bodkin suddenly concluded that 
he had had supper enough. 



"I'm going out this evening, Mrs. 
Smiley. You can leave the hall-light 
burning when you go to bed," said he, 
rising from the table and thrusting the 
note into his pocket. 

Mrs. Smiley nodded a respectful ac- 

Then he went into the hallwa)' and 
instructed the small boy to say to Mrs. 
Marvdn, with his compliments, that he 
would be down in half an hour, and 
the boy being evidently in a hurry 
shot out into the darkness, closing the 
street door after him with a bang. 

" Boys are always in a hurry," said 
Mr. Bodkin to himself as he turned 
the key. "Probably hasn't had his 
supper yet." 

Then he went to his room to put on 
a clean collar and " brush up" a little; 
and visions of Maria came and minis- 
tered unto him as he stood before the 
glass tying on his best cravat. 

Mrs. Smiley having cleared away 
the supper things extinguished the 
lights in the library and dining-room, 
and retired as usual to the kitchen to 
finish her work. 

In a few minutes Mr. Bodkin 
emerged from his room neatly attired 
for the evening, and stepping into the 
hall put on his heavj^ overcoat and 
fur cap. It was a bitter cold night, 
and the wind was blowing a gale, so 
he drew his cap down about his ears, 
wound his muffler snugly about his 
neck, and got his gloves readj^ to draw 
on as he walked along. His half hour 
was nearly up, and he would have to 
hurry. Opening the front door to 
make his exit, a gust of wind swept 
into the hallway and extinguished the 
light, leaving him in utter darkness. 
But he was ready for the storm, so he 
pushed on out of the door and closed 
it firmly after him. 

" Never mind the light, Mrs. Smiley 
•will attend to that," he thought, as he 
drew on a glove and gathered himself 
for a start. 

As he stepped across the veranda, 
cautiously feeling his way towards the 
steps, his ankle came in contact with 
something; and at the same moment 

he heard a low, half-smothered cry 
which seemed to be at his very feet. 
What could it be? Then stooping 
down and groping about in the dark- 
ness to discover the mysterious object 
he found an old willow-basket, and in 
the basket, wrapped in an old woolen 
shawl, there was something moving ! 
He touched it with his bare hand; it 
was a little, soft, smooth, warm body. 
"Why, its a baby!'" he said to 
himself, shuddering at the touch. The 
poor little waif gave another faint piti- 
ful cry, and he snatched his hand 
quickly away; then all was still again. 
John Bodkin staggered back in amaze- 

" As I live!" he exclaimed, "some 
one has left a baby at my door! " His 
indignation knew no bounds. Had 
he followed his first impulse he might 
have kicked the basket, baby and all, 
into the middle of the street — oh, hor- 
rible! He positively hated himself a 
moment later to think that such a 
wicked, heartless thought could ever 
have entered his head. Then his sym- 
pathies began to warm towards the 
poor, helpless little thing; and he stood 
there in the bleak, cold night and pon- 
dered. What should he do ? 

He had half a mind to take it up in 
his arms and carrj^ it right down to 
Mrs. Marvin. She was a sensible good 
woman, and could advise him what 
course to take in the matter. But no, 
that would never do; for he would 
most surely be met and recognized on 
the way, and the "young one" would 
of course keep up a continuous howl; 
and next day it would be the talk of 
the town that John Bodkin, — think of 
it! ihdXjohi Bodkin, — a member of the 
church in good standing and a citizen 
of respectability, was seen after dark 
hurrying along very stealthily and 
mysteriously with a living baby in a 
basket! A pretty story that would be. 

Manifestly, then, there was but one 
alternative. The baby must be taken 
care of, and at once. There was no 
time to be lost either, for it would 
freeze to death shortly. 



His night-latch key was away down 
in his trousers' pocket, and he was 
too shivering cold to hunt for it, so he 
rang the door-bell vigorously. As he 
stood waiting he pulled on his other 
glove, and a very similar incident 
which he had read about in the news- 
papers a few days before came vividly 
to his recollection. If he could pos- 
sibly prevent it the papers should 
never hear of this. He would caution 
Mrs. Smiley on this point. 

Presently the old housekeeper came 
pattering through the dark hall to the 
door, and discreetly called from the 

"Who's there?" 

"It is I, Mrs. Smiley. Open the 
door, please," Bodkin replied. "Oh, 
is it you, Mr. Bodkin ? " asked the cau- 
tious woman as she unlocked the 
door. "Gracious! How you fright- 
ened me! Have you forgotten some- 
thing, sir?" 

"No," answered Bodkin, "but I 
have /o?ind something here on the 
porch, and I don't know what to 
make of it." , , , , 

He picked up the basket and held 
it towards her at arm's length. " Here 
it is," said he, "carry it into the 
kitchen, Mrs. Smiley, and take care of 

it." . , , 

"What on earth!" exclaimed the 
astonished housekeeper, as she took 
the basket in her hands. " Why, 
what is it, Mr. Bodkin ? " 

"You' 11 soon see what it is! Do what- 
ever you please with it, Mrs. Smiley. 
You know best. Only keep it out of 
my sight. Ugh! I wouldn't touch 
it again for a farm! Oh! and, Mrs. 
Smiley, be very careful not to speak of 
it to any one, — not to ajij one, Mrs. 

"No, sir, I'll not mention it, 
she replied, half frightened at the 
mystery, as she disappeared with the 
basket and closed the door. 

Mr. Bodkin was completely be- 
wildered. He made his way almost 
mechanically along the dark street, 
looking neither to the right nor to the 
left, and scarcely heeding the fierce 

wind that swept and whistled by him. 
His thoughts were of babies, and of 
the delicate responsibility which had 
been so suddenly and unexpectedly 
thrust upon him. 

He reflected upon his own utter in- 
competence as a raiser and trainer 
of infants, and felt thankful that he 
had good Mrs. Smiley to depend upon. 
Her experience and kind motherly 
disposition would be invaluable. He 
wondered whether it was a boy or a 
girl baby. If it was a boy he would 
give him a college education and 
make a lawyer, or perhaps a minister, 
of him. If it should prove to be a 
girl! — Well, he devoutly hoped it 
might not; but, no matter, he would 
do his Christian duty in any event, 
though he felt morally satisfied that a 
girl baby would be much harder to 
"raise" than a boy baby. And so as 
he walked along his thoughts flew in 
and out like swallows in a chimney- 

At last he reached Mrs. Marvin's 
door, and was cordially received by 
that excellent lady. Maria welcomed 
him warmly too, and so did Miss 
De Sharp, who had already arrived. 

Then, after a while, the promised 
entertainment began.. Miss De Sharp 
sang her sweetest songs in her sweet- 
est way, and Maria sang,— and Miss 
De Sharp played, and Maria played,— 
and the programme continued almost 
incessantly for a solid hour. 

But the delightful harmony was all 
lost on Mr. Bodkin, who was away off 
in the clouds wool-gathering,— John 
Bodkin and his baby. 

' ' What can be the matter, I won- 
der?" thought Mrs. Marvin, observ- 
ing his abstraction. "I never saw 
him so quiet and moody before; " and 
for the sake of a change she proposed 
a game of chess. 

Mr. Bodkin was perfectly willing, 
and the battle commenced, while the 
young ladies proceeded to try over 
some new songs at the piano. 

But the white pawns were all white 
babies, and the red pawns were red 



babies, and John Bodkin was check- 
mated on the seventh move! Another 
game with similar results, and a third 
game without improvement! 

Why did those horrid girls persist in 
singing "cradle-songs," and "lulla- 
bies," and silly ballads about "Papa's 
baby boy," and " The shoes that baby 
wore," and all that sort of thing? It 
began to look as though they meant to 
be personal. At any rate Mr. Bodkin 
was very much flustered, and to his 
great relief the chessboard was laid 

Then Maria got out her basket of 
fancy work, to show her guests the 
numerous pretty things she had been 
making for the church fair. There 
were babies' hoods, and babies' caps, 
and babies' mittens, and tiny little 
stockings, and all sorts of baby things 
in pink and yellow and pale blue and 
soft creamy white. 

Mr. Bodkin did not claim to be a 
judge of such things, but he admired 
them very much, all the same; and he 
secretly resolved to let Mrs. Smiley go 
to the fair and buy a lot of these 
"traps" for the baby. 

And so the evening dragged along; 
but, with all the efforts put forth to 
make his visit pleasant, John Bodkin 
was not happy. 

" Oh, Mr. Bodkin! " said the widow, 
brightening up as with a new and or- 
iginal idea, " I wish I had sent for you 
to dine with us to-day! " 

Mr. Bodkin looked vacantly at the 
toe of his boot and tried to smile. 

"We had a lovely dinner," the 
widow continued; " and to cap the cli- 
max our new cook surprised us with 
a real old-fashioned dessert, — a ' ' baby- 
in-the-blanket " with wine sauce. I'm 
sure you would have enjoyed it." 

Bodkin looked at her in a queer, in- 
credulous way and said yes, he was 
fond of anything of that kind; but 
away down in his heart he wondered 
if cannibalism was becoming fashion- 
able. He had never before heard of 
civilized people eati?ig them, even with 
wine sauce. 

Before the evening was over, how- 
ever, the pressure became stronger 
than he could bear; and watching for 
a favorable opportunity he told the 
widow briefly and in a whisper all that 
had happened. It was such a relief to 
unload the burdensome secret! 

Mrs. Marvin listened attentively to 
the strange story and smiled. Whether 
it was a smile of pity or of contempt, 
John Bodkin could not quite make out. 
In vain he waited for some word of 
friendly advice; but she offered no 
comfort, no counsel, no comment, noth- 
ing, and hastily changed the subject. 

Thank heaven, the evening was 
drawing to a close! for he was suffo- 
cating in that atmosphere of indiffer- 

" Confound it! " thought he, as he 
walked home, ' ' I wish I had said noth- 
ing about it! I shall never have cour- 
age to enter Maria's house again." 

Mr. Bodkin's rest that night was 
broken and unsatisfactor>^ He thought 
and dreamed of babies in every shape 
and form and color; and the next morn- 
ing when he made his appearance at 
the breakfast table he was hollow-eyed, 
pale and nerveless. 

"You are not well this morning, 
Mr. Bodkin," said Mrs. Smiley kindly. 

"No," he answered languidly. "I 
did not sleep well, Mrs. Smiley, for 
thinking of that basket. I never had 
anything worry me. so before." 

" Oh, indeed, sir, you needn't worry 
about it at all! The little thing is as 
bright and well as possible, sir!" 

"Did it eat anything?" asked Bodkin. 

" Oh, yes, sir; I gave it a good sup- 
per of fresh, warm milk, and then it 
went to sleep and never whimpered all 

" What kind of a looking thing is 
it?" inquired Bodkin. 

' ' It's really verj^ pretty, sir, — indeed 
it is, — and seems quite healthy, too, 
sir. It's a wonder to me, sir, that any- 
one should wish to part with it," said 
the kind old soul. 

"Ah, my good woman," remarked 
Mr. Bodkin, ' ' there are very unfeeling 



people in this world. Is it dark or light, 
Mrs. Smiley ? ' ' 

"Oh, it's quite dark I should say, 
sir, — it's hair is almost black, and very 
curly, and it has beautiful dark blue 
eyes, and such pretty white feet! Don't 
you want to see it, sir ? " 

''No! " shouted Bodkin, rising from 
the table ; and stalking out of the house 
he hastened down the street to his of- 

"Well, I declare!" said Mrs. Smi- 
ley, as she rubbed her withered hands 
together and looked after him, "I 
wonder what has gone wrong ? I never 
saw Mr. Bodkin so cross before," and 
she went about her work in a very un- 
comfortable frame of mind. 

Before noon that day it was whis- 
pered about town that a baby had been 
left on Mr. Bodkin's doorstep. Where 
the report originated no one seemed to 
know. Mr. Bodkin had told Mrs. 
Marvin about it to be sure; and Mrs. 
Marvin had told it to Miss De Sharp 
"in strictest confidence;" and Miss De 
Sharp remembered to have mentioned 
it to a very particular friend, who had 
promised ' ' on her sacred word of 
honor" never to repeat it; and yet, 
in spite of all this precaution, the story 
with all its details had leaked out. 

People stopped on the corners to 
talk about it, and looked askance at 
Bodkin as they passed his office door. 
The little town had not for years ex- 
perienced such a real sensation; and 
things did not look at all well for a 
certain Mr. John Bodkin. 

The members of the Good Samaritan 
Society were in ecstasy ! Nemesis had 
come at last, and they heard with ex- 
altation the flapping of her wings. 

In the excitement of the hour the 
church "committee on charities" was 
hurriedly called together, and in a body 
waited upon the unhappy man at his 
office, to hear what he might have to 
say concerning the matter. 

Mr. Bodkin had no explanation to 
ofier. He related the facts in the case, 
so far as he was able, giving an exact 
account of what had transpired during 
the previous evening. His theory was 

that the infant probably belonged to 
some one who, through extreme pov- 
erty, had been compelled to abandon 
it. But he was perfectly willing to 
keep the child and care for it until its 
parents could be found. The com- 
mittee whispered and "hemmed and 
hawed," as if not entirely in accord 
with Mr. Bodkin's view of the case, 
and finally adjourned in evident per- 
plexity to the minister's study for 
fuither consultation as to what should 
be done. 

After a preliminary caucus in each 
corner of the room, the ' ' meeting' ' 
was called to order, the minister in 
the chair, and proceeded to business. 
Dispensing with the usual formalities, 
the matter in question was at once 
brought under consideration. It was 
plainly a case of emergency, and what- 
ever the committee decided to do 
should be done at once. Every one 
agreed to that. 

To cut matters short, and save, per- 
haps, some discussion, the minister 
had a plan to propose which, he 
thought, would meet the approval of 
the committee. He had talked it over 
with his wife, and she had expressed 
a willingness to take charge of the 
unfortunate little waif, administering 
to its temporal and spiritual neces- 
sities, for a while at least, if the una- 
voidable expenses for medicines, cloth- 
ing, etc., could be paid from the 
"church fund." Nothing would be 
charged for the infant's board. 

Mr. Pennywise said that he did not 
see how the ' ' church fund ' ' could be 
used for such a purpose : he had never 
heard of it being done. He fully ap- 
preciated the minister's excellent mo- 
tive in making the proposition, but he 
believed it would be establishing a 
very dangerous precedent, and he was 
most decidedly opposed to any such 
arrangement. He thought the child 
should be sent to the county alms- 
house. The burden and expense should 
be borne by the county, and not sad- 
dled on the church. 

Mr. Farthing, who was one of the 
almshouse commissioners, said that 



the institution which he had the honor 
to represent was maintained by the 
taxpayers for the poor of the county 
only: the law was very clear on that 
point. In this case there was no proof 
that the child belonged to, or had even 
been born in, the county. It might 
have been brought from some other 
county. The committee would see at 
once that the county almshouse was 
not an asylum for the abandoned in- 
fants of the State at large. He thought 
the "Orphans' Home" would be the 
proper place. 

Mr. Upperjaw, who happened to be 
one of the Board of Trustees of the 
Orphans' Home, said that, in the first 
place, there was nothing to show that 
this infant was an orphan: its parents 
might be alive and well. In the sec- 
ond place, even supposing it to be an 
orphan, it could not be admitted to 
the " Home," under the rules of that 
establishment, without proper identifi- 
cation and a certificate from some 
responsible person as to the good char- 
acter of its deceased parents. He 
thought in the present case it would 
be exceedingly difficult to procure the 
requisite "papers." Babies left on 
people's doorsteps after dark are not 
usually, as a rule, accompanied by 
written credentials — (laughter). It 
seemed to him that the Good Sama- 
ritan Society might be induced to take 
charge of the child. 

Miss Sourbeigh, who was in fact 
the vice-president of the Good Sama- 
ritan Society, rose to her feet, blushed 
becomingly, and said that she and her 
associates in the cause of benevolence 
had given this matter some consider- 
ation already, in an informal way. It 
was certainly not a case within the 
Society's jurisdiction, and she was sat- 
isfied that there was not a single mem- 
ber of the Society who would touch 
the "young one" with a ten-foot pole! 
She wished it understood that the 
Good Samaritan Society was not or- 
ganized for the purpose of washing 
and dressing babies ! In her opinion, 
neither the church, nor the count}^ 
nor any charitable institution had any- 

thing to do with this matter, lyCt the 
law determine who should take care of 
this abandoned babe ! She did not 
care to mention any names, nor to give 
expi'ession to her own individual opin- 
ions, but she was in favor of placing 
the case in the hands of the grand jury 
for immediate and searching investi- 
gation ! 

Mr. Briefly, who was a lawyer and a 
pillar of the church, said that the 
" law," just referred to, was powerless 
in any case without evidence. He was 
not positive in his own mind that 
there was a baby in the case at all ; 
he had not seen it. Was there any 
one present who had seen this baby ? 
For a moment there was no reply; 
then some one ventured to suggest 
that there was no reason for doubting 
Mr. Bodkin's own statement to the 
visiting committee. Mr. Bodkin had 
plainly said that he found a baby in a 
basket on his doorstep. 

" Did Mr, Bodkin describe the 
child? " asked the lawyer, 

"No," replied Mr. Upperjaw, "I 
don't remember that he did, I pre- 
sume the committee did not think it 
necessary to go into such minute de- 

"Of co2irse not," said Mrs. Sourbeigh 
testily. " I suppose a baby is a baby 
whether its eyes are black or brown or 
blue or green! or whether it is cross- 
eyed, wall-eyed, pop-eyed or blind! or 
whether its toes turn out or its toes 
turn z?i, Mr. Briefly ! I do not under- 
stand that we are here to discuss the 
complexion, shape, size or physical fea- 
tures of the ' young one, ' but merely to 
decide what to do with it ! " and she 
sat down very red and very much ex- 
cited, and patted the floor with her 

"What authority have we to do 
anything; with it? " asked Mr. Briefly 
with an aggravating smile. "Has 
Mr. Bodkin requested this committee 
to act in the matter ? ' ' 

No one heard him, apparently. 

" I ask if Mr. Bodkin has requested 
any action on the part of this commit- 
tee ? " he repeated in a louder voice. 



Still no answer. 

"If he has ?^<?/," the lawyer con- 
tinued, " it is none of this committee's 
business ! and I for one decline to 
have anything further to do with it ! " 
and Mr. Briefly took his hat and his 
cotton umbrella and left the room. 

Those who remained were heartily 
glad to see him go. Now that he was 
out of the way there would be no 
more quibbling and hair-splitting: the 
discussion could go on harmoniously. 

And it did go on until the entire 
afternoon was wasted without reach- 
ing a conclusion. What to do with 
that baby the committee could not de- 
cide. The tiny pariah had become an 
elephant on their hands, and a motion 
to adjourn until the next morning was 
carried unanimously. 

That same evening as John Bodkin 
walked demurely up to his supper 
Maria Marvin came out to the gate in 
front of her mother's house to meet 
him. Had she looked into the win- 
dows across the street she would have 
seen six or eight sharp eyes watching 
her; and had there been a telephone 
connection from the Society rooms to 
her little pink ears they would have 
turned from pink to crimson at the 
things that were being said. 

"Good evening, Mr. Bodkin," she 
said gaily. " How is that little stran- 
ger up at your house that I hear so 
much about? " 

John Bodkin turned scarlet. 

"Ah, Miss Marvin," he stammered, 
** I — I am so sorry for that poor baby. " 

"Oh, / am not sorry at all," said 
Maria. "Indeed I think it was very 
lucky to fall into such good hands. 
But, tell me, Mr. Bodkin, is the little 
thing pretty or plain ? Tell me all 
about it." 

" Why yes — of course. I — well, to 
tell the truth Miss Marvin, I haven't 
seen it yet ! I — ' ' 

" Haven't .y^^;z it!" exclaimed Maria 
in surprise. 

" No, Miss Mar — that is, Miss Mar- 
vin, I actually haven't seen it. Mrs. 

Smiley took charge of it, you see, 

"Come closer to the gate, Mr. Bod- 
kin," said Maria, interrupting him, 
" I want to tell you something." 

Mr. Bodkin obeyed. He would have 
stood on his head if Maria Marvin had 
commanded him. 

" Do you know," she continued in a 
lower voice, " that all the gossips in 
town are puzzling their heads about 
that baby?" 

John Bodkin turned from red to 
white, and wished the earth would 
open and swallow him, but he made 
no reply. 

' ' Now, / happen to know something 
of the circumstances, Mr. Bodkin." 

" Yo2i, Miss — Miss Marvin?" ex- 
claimed the astonished man. 

"Yes, — // — I know the mother o^ 
the dear little thing, and a good, kind 
mother she is, and belongs to an ex- 
cellent family, and glad enough she 
would be to have her baby back again, 
poor thing! Mr. Bodkin, that baby was 
stoleji from her, — cruelly stolen from 
her, and placed on your doorstep! The 
person who did it has confessed all to 

In all John Bodkin's life he had 
never been more surprised; and he 
stood looking into Maria's eyes, petri- 
fied and speechless. 

"Now, Mr. Bodkin, I have been 
thinking over the matter," continued 
Maria, ' ' and I want you to invite me, 
with such friends as I may choose to 
ask, to come up to your house this 
very evening to see the baby. It will 
satisfy their curiosity, you know, and 
perhaps their hearts will soften towards 
yo2i when they see with their own ej^es 
the helpless innocent little creature 
that you rescued from death." 

" But — Miss Marvin! — I don't un- 
derstand — " 

" Never mind," said Maria, inter- 
rupting him, "I will tell you all about 
it another time. Now, do you consent 
to my plan ? Shall I consider myself 
and friends invited, Mr. Bodkin ? " 

' ' Why, certainly. Miss Marvin, since 
you think it best; but I confess I am 



not sanguine about the results," an- 
swered Mr. Bodkin; and after a little 
further conversation, which need not 
be repeated here, he continued on his 
way up the street. 

When John Bodkin had finished his 
supper that evening he told Mrs. Smi- 
ley of the promised call. 

"Very well, sir," said the good 
woman, "I'll take great pleasure in 
showing it, I'm sure. Wouldn't you 
like to take just one look at the dear 
little thing, sir? It's so smart and 
pretty!" ''No, — no!" thundered Bod- 
kin in a most unnatural way, " I tell 
you I want nothing to do with it ! It has 
made trouble enough for me. Heaven 
knows, in the last twenty-four hours;" 
and then he went off to his room as 
cross as a bear, and locked himself in. 

Mrs. Smiley, dear old soul, could not 
vmderstand it at all. Surely Mr. Bod- 
kin could not blame her for what had 
happened, and yet he spoke so harshly 
and so unkindly. What could it all 
mean ? 

An hour later the door-bell rang, 
and Miss Marvin was shown into the 
library with a quartette of the very 
worst gossips in town. For months 
these four busybodies had been ' ' dy- 
ing" to see tihe inside of that mj'ste- 
rious house, and their sharp eyes took 
in everything from floor to ceiling. 

" Mrs. Smile3', we have come up 
here, by Mr. Bodkin's invitation, to 
see the poor little outcast that was 
found at your door last night," said 
Maria. ' ' May we see it ? " 

"Why of course, Miss," answered 
Mrs. Smiley. " Mr. Bodkin told me 
that some of his lady friends would be 

in to see the little fellow, so I washed 
his face and brushed his hair to see 
the company." 

"Ah!" whispered Miss Wigglelip 
aside, "it's a boy then! " 

"Just wait a moment," continued 
Mrs. Smiley, bustling about and plac- 
ing chairs for the callers. ' ' Be seated, 
ladies, and I'll bring the little dear to 
you right away." 

The amiable old housekeeper hur- 
ried at once to the kitchen, and in a 
few moments returned with the basket, 
which she placed upon a table in the 
center of the room. 

As if by common consent the visit- 
ors at once left their chairs and gath- 
ered closely around it mute with 
excitement and curiosity. 

Pharaoh's daughter and her com- 
panions, splashing barefooted among 
the bulrushes of the Nile, could not 
have felt a more eager interest in the 
unopened cradle of the infant Moses! 
The folds of the old shawl were 
thrown back, and there, fast asleep in 
the bottom of the basket, was a little 
Newfoundland puppy! which, as it 
turned out, had been sent to Mr. Bod- 
kin b)^ Mrs. Marvin simply as an 
anonymous present, and left on his 
doorstep \>y the mysterious boy who 
delivered her note on the previous 

The effect of this startling disclosure 
may be imagined. The "sensation," 
which had shaken society to its very 
foundation, was practically at an end, 
and the voluble gossipers of the village 
were aghast. Maria is Mrs. Bodkin 
now, and the "Good Samaritan" So- 
ciety has moved into another street. 


By ElIvWood Cooper. 

ROM the time of the 
occupation of the 
coast of California 
by the Franciscan 
Fathers and the 
founding of the Mis- 
sion churches, from 
San Diego to San 
Francisco, until 
1865, little progress was made in fruit 
■culture. From San Luis Obispo to 
the southern boundary of the State 
a goodly number of olive trees were 
planted at every Mission. These trees 
were cared for and the fruit harvested, 
being mostly made into oil, which 
was used in the religious services of 
the church. It also entered as a food 
product into every-day use. The rea- 
sons why this industry, destined, in 
my opinion, to be the leading one of 
California, did not attract the attention 
of the intelligent settler does not 
•come within the scope of this article. 
Suffice it to say that the wisdom of 
these earl}^ Fathers, and the example 
set by them, almost appears as a prov- 
idential dispensation, and claims our 

In the spring of 1868 an interesting 
article was published giving an ac- 
count of the Missions, with special 
reference to the olive, and the impor- 
tance of its culture ; and about that 
time several orchards were set out in 
the southern counties. 

Early in April of the above-men- 
tioned year I visited Santa Barbara 
and saw the Mission olive orchard, 
which was, even as late as April, 
hanging full of fruit; and I was so im- 
pressed by its beauty and apparent 
productiveness that two 5'ears later, 
when I decided to make California my 
future home, I began at once to prepare 
for olive-growing. The result of that 
determination is well known through- 
out the State and, in fact, throughout 

the country. In the development 
of an industry entirely new to? uie 
I had, of course, much to learn. Much 
labor and study was requisite, which 
I entered into with an enthusiasm that 
knew no bounds. I procured all the 
books on the subject that could be had 
in the different languages, and had 
those translated which I could not 
master. In the study my interest in- 
creased, so that in the progress of my 
knowledge of the subject, its impor- 
tance was more and more manifest, 
and now the impressions received are 
more strongly marked than ever be- 
fore. The dawning of the day is at 
hand, and I expect to see the realiza- 
tion of my hopes. I believe the time 
will come when all the table-lands, 
hills and mountain slopes will be 
planted with the olive. Many other 
fruits will be rooted out to give it 
place. Every available acre will be 
required for this industry, and no sub- 
stance will enter more large into me- 
dicinal preparations than olive oil, and 
none be more common as a food pro- 
duct in daily consumption. 

Olive-tree planting is inexpensive 
because trees can be raised from slips 
and cuttings, which grow readily if 
properly manipulated. If grown from 
cuttings the plants will produce fruit 
the fourth year. Trees can also be 
grown from seeds, a plan in general 
encouraged, on the ground that better 
trees are produced. By this method, 
however, it takes probably twice as 
long to get the first fruits, with the 
additional expense of either budding 
or grafting. I have a young orchard 
four years old, from cuttings, planted 
in permanent sites, uniformly good 
trees and well fruited. Such results 
can only be expected where the best 
of care and cultivation is given. It 
is not necessary to dwell upon this 
point, since the greatest economy in 



all cases is in the greatest care and 
best cultivation. 

The olive, as far as I have experi- 
enced, seems to thrive on every kind 
of soil where well drained. On my 
ranch the trees have been planted in 
black adobe, on sandy loam, subsoil 
brick clay, on deep bottom land, on 
sandy and stony hillsides, on adobe 
hillsides, on clay soil, and on red 
lands. All are thriving, the higher 
up apparently the more thrifty; the 
highest elevation, however, is not over 
four hundred feet above the sea-level, 

summtir heat was greater than at EU- 
wood; but as to the relative value per 
tree for oil-making I have no experi- 

In universal olive culture as out- 
lined in this article a great number 
of horses and mules will be required. 
These can be pastured amongst the 
orchards, in ravines, on slopes where 
it would be too difficult to get the 
fruit, and on the orchard margins, 
without injury to the trees ; hence 
neighborhoods engaged in the culture 
would be saved the expense of fencing. 


Interior of the Oil Works. 

and is distant from the sea less than 
three miles. The tree will grow in a 
dry cUmate where no other fruits 
could be successful, and will live 
through an extremely dry year; but it 
could not be expected to give much 
fruit such years, nor is it known just 
how long thereafter the tree would take 
to overcome the want of moisture. 
The effect of irrigation on olive trees 
does not come within my experience, 
as here we have never irrigated. I 
have noticed that the berries I have 
purchased were larger in size with irri- 
gation when grown inland where the 

I have been assured by neighboring 
olive-growers that they allow their 
horses to roam in fields adjoining un- 
fenced orchards, and that in no case 
have the trees been injured. This ab- 
sence of fences would be a large mar- 
gin of profit as compared with other 

The climatic conditions necessary 
for successful olive-growing in Califor- 
nia have not been fully determined. It 
is believed that the tree will thrive and 
produce fruit in nearly every part of 
the State. In localities where the ther- 
mometer, Fahrenheit, would fall below 



twenty degrees, or in regions where the 
heat is very great and continuous dur- 
ing the summer season, it would be 
well to experiment before extensive 
planting. I have read that in the 
tropics the olive will not bear fruit. 
On the coast it is claimed that the tree 
will grow more rapidly and bear more 
abundantly; and, while this is con- 
ceded, those inland claim an equal ad- 
vantage in less trouble from insect 
pests and fungoid diseases. 

Regarding the variety of olive to 
plant for profit, opinions are ver>' 

Missions of Santa Barbara, San Fer- 
nando and San Diego, and from the 
Tajiguas ranch. In recent years many 
different varieties have been brought 
from Europe and are on sale at the 
different nurseries under various names. 
I have no controversy with these par- 
ties who claim superiority of special- 
named varieties; but, until they are 
proven by experience to produce more 
fruit or better fruit or better oil, and 
better pickles, I shall plant only the 
Mission variety. There is too much 
confusion and uncertainty, since differ- 

The Olive Press. 

much at variance. Formerly the Mis- 
sion was the only variety planted. 
Some claim that there were several 
Mission varieties, while others that 
all came from the same original stock 
first brought here by the Mission 
Fathers, and that while there are dif- 
ferent types it is the result of climatic 
conditions or location. I am incHned 
to this latter opinion because there is 
an apparent difference in the size and 
shape of the fruits in different loca- 
tions, w^hile all of them reproduced m 
the same orchard show no difference. 
The cuttings I planted were from the 

ent authors have different names for 
the same variety. New varieties have 
been planted and are fruiting, so that 
the question of their relative values 
will soon be determined by the exper- 
ience of olive-growers in California. 
Many things are to be considered in 
selecting varieties. A rapid growing 
tree easily shaped is a very important 
feature, as it gives good bearing capa- 
city. Some varieties grow unshapely 
and are with difiiculty kept from 
breaking. Different locations may re- 
quire different varieties, but above all 
other considerations is the quality of 



oil produced. The varieties that will 
make the best oil should in all cases 
be selected, provided the quantity is 
a fair average to a given acreage 
planted. This rule will be applicable 
as well for pickling, unless the fruit is 
too small for economic handling. The 
quantity and quality of the oil con- 
tained in the fruit gives the value to 
the pickles. 

Making olive oil is a simple process; 
still it is necessary that the maker 
should know how. The quality will 
depend on the care exercised from the 
picking of the fruit through every 
diflferent stage of the manufacture un- 
til it is tightly corked in the bottle. 
The berries must not be allowed to 
stand in heaps, or in sacks, or, in fact, 
in any sort of package long enough 
to heat; otherwise the oil will become 
musty or rancid. Absolute cleanliness 
should be practiced in every branch of 
the manufacture. 

The greatest drawback to the suc- 
cessful cultivation of the olive is the 
black scale. This insect is so per- 
sistent and so difl&cult to destroy that 
it will discourage the grower unless 
he determines to fight it to such an 
extent that it will not materially in- 
jure the crop. Those living in the 
hot interior have claimed that the 
black scale could not live where there 
were no summer fogs. In fact this 
was the general belief, but experience 
has proven the contrary, as orchards 
in such localities have been destroyed 
and rooted out on account of the rav- 
ages of this insect. With regard to 
this drawback to the olive industry, 
it is confidently hoped that in the near 
future a parasitic insect will be discov- 
ered and brought to California which 
will destroy the black scale as effectu- 
ally as the Vedalia Cardinalis (Aus- 

tralian Lady-bird) has the Icerya 
Purchasii (white scale). Such a dis- 
covery would decrease, very greatly, 
the cost of production. 

The quantity of fruit that a well- 
grown olive tree, from twelve to fifteen 
years old, will produce in a good year, 
is from two hundred to two hundred 
and fifty pounds. Such results were 
not uncommon in my neighborhood 
the past year. The best results in the 
oil product the same year, as weighed 
from the trees, was eight and a half 
pounds of berries to the large bottle 
of oil. These olives were of the 
Mission variety, and the year an ex- 
traordinarily fruitful one. 

In this brief account I cannot enter 
into all the details of the olive indus- 
try. I must therefore refer those who 
anticipate planting to the compilations 
of the State Board of Horticulture 
from 1885 down to the present time. 
These books are accessible in all the 
libraries of the State. If I can en- 
courage planting by urging upon the 
people the importance of this indus- 
try, I will be amply repaid for this 
article. It is not that we should plant 
merely for the purpose of money get- 
ting, or of increasing the prosperity 
of the community or State ; there is 
more involved. It is to be hoped that 
the saying, " History repeats itself, " 
will prove true in the present instance, 
and the uses of this valuable product 
will be as well known as it was thou- 
sands of years ago. The substitution 
of noxious mixtures, introduced and 
falsely represented to the consumer, 
has well-nigh destroyed the true char- 
acter of the pure product. Let us en- 
courage the production of a substance 
of such economic value and so highly 

Plant olive trees. 


By p. C. Remondino, M. D. 

SOUTHERN Californians are justly 
proud of their matchless climate. 
It certainly has not its analogue in 
any other of the favored spots of the 
earth. Other climes may have seas of 
lighter hues or skies of deeper blue, 
brisker breezes and more natural vege- 
tation close to the seashore; they have 
even seasons of enchanting weather, 
but they also have many drawbacks 
which to the California climate are 
unknown. The shores of the Riviera, 
bathed in the sunshine of a clear Ital- 
ian sky, with the blue Mediterranean 
lazily undulating at the foot of the 
wooded Appenines, really makes an 
enchanting picture. The lazy, warm 
breezes entice the invalid or tourist 
into the open air to feast on the varied 
landscape and balmy atmosphere. A 
gust of cold air comes down some 
mountain glen, followed by avalanches 
of still colder air from the snowy crests 
to the north. Clouds gather on the hor- 
izon; and soon the sea is lashed into a 
fury. Now the sky is overcast; and cold, 
piercing winds sweep down from every 
height. The promenaders, loiterers, 
some in carriages and some on foot, 
are hurriedly breaking for some shel- 
ter. Where, one hour before, all was 
sunshine and summer breezes, is now 
clouds and Siberian blasts. Such are 
some of the accidental changes in the 
weather of the Riviera, strongly pro- 
nounced at Genoa, unpleasantly fre- 
quent at Nice, and too often seen at 

The shores of Southern California 
are not marred by any like accidents. 
The climatic factors have no such a 
discordant element as the Mediterra- 
nean Tramontane to disturb the mete- 
orological symphony that composes 
the climate of the California of the 
South; nor have they the scorching 
sirocco at the other extreme in the 
gamut played by the temperature of 

inconsistent old ^olus. Old Boreas 
is here unknown, and his opposite of 
Plutonic blasts is equally a stranger. 
That talented and lamented authoress, 
Helen Hunt Jackson, has well and fitly 
remarked that Southern California was 
like an island on land. No better ex- 
pression could have conveyed an idea 
of the truly insular character of its 

The true ocean climate is said only 
to be experienced on shipboard, at 
such a distance from land that no land 
influences can be experienced. Ships 
on the Atlantic must indeed sail at a 
great distance from land to effectually 
escape the influences of the African 
coast; and in the North Atlantic it is 
a hard matter to escape the storms that 
originate on the Gulf stream. Even 
when not stormy, the North Atlantic 
winds are raw, cold and moist. Farther 
south the heat of the tropics does not 
allow of any pleasant illusions in regard 
to ocean climates, unless it be in the 
return stream that flows from ofi" the 
African coast towards the Gulf of Mex- 
ico, where the somewhat colder waters 
temper the rays of the tropical sun. So 
that outside of the calm Pacific I 
should hardly look for the ideal oceanic 

Probably the nearest approach to 
the Southern California climate to be 
found on the globe is that of Orotava 
in the Azores, where the insular cli- 
mate in its extreme purity combined 
with agreeableness is to be met. Oro- 
tava, however, lacks the more health- 
conducive, bracing breezes and tonic 
cooler air of the Southern Californian 
coasts ; and while it has an agreeable 
and enchanting climate its heat is of too 
moist and enervating a character to be 
long agreeable; for, while the Southern 
California climate wears well and 
long, the same cannot be said of 
the climatic queen of the Azores. 



Madeira has often been compared to 
Santa Barbara, Santa Monica, San 
Diego or Coronado Beach; but beyond 
the resemblance in the annual mean 
temperatures there can be no com- 
parison ; while the temporary physical 
sensations imparted by the Madeira 
climate may again institute ideas of 
comparisons, the actual physical effects 
on living or even dead organic matter 
will soon show that a wide climatic 
difference exists. 

In Madeira leather articles, books 
and like articles become quickly 
moldy, musical instruments can 
hardly be kept in tune, deliquesceiit 
powders liquify, and botanical speci- 
mens can only be preserved with the 
greatest difiiculty. Iron, guns and 
surgical instruments require the great- 
est care to prevent their utter destruc- 
tion from rust; while in Southern Cal- 
ifornia leather articles, books, etc., do 
not mold, musical instruments keep 
well, guns and surgical instruments 
do not require more or as much care 
as they do in the Mississippi Valley; 
and it is doubtful if there exists a land 
where specimens of natural history — 
be they animal or vegetable— keep or 
preserve as easy and well. I have seen 
dripping sea mosses from the marine 
caves at La Golla simply placed be- 
tween two sheets of blotting paper be- 
come perfect specimens; the same may 
be said of the many and varied rich 
ferns with which the hillsides and inter- 
ior valleys abound; the grasses, flowers, 
and in fact all botanical specimens, re- 
quire but little care to preserve. I 
have seen herders kill a coyote and prop 
it up on two sticks as a warning to other 
marauding coyotes. It has become per- 
' fectly mummified in a few days, — even 
retaining its hair. Along the shores 
the fisherman dries his fish on huge 
racks ; and meats are cured by being 
hung in huge festoons on clothes- 
lines, this meat-curing being done on 
the seashores, arid plains or in the 
mountains with equal ease and care- 
lessness. The raisins are here all sun- 
dried, and when a rancher kills a beef 
in the interior he simply hangs up 

the quarters with a rope and pulley 
to one of the neighboring live-oaks and 
cuts off the pieces for daily consump- 
tion as they may be required. 

These desiccating and curing and 
aseptic properties of our seacoast 
air are something which can really be 
said to be unique, as neither Orotava, 
Madeira, or any of the famed resorts 
of Italy, France, Spain or England 
can boast of a Uke beneficent and tissue- 
preservative climate. A cHmate that 
will do as much for the preservation and 
protection of dead matter can be safely 
relied upon for doing all that it is pos- 
sible to do in the case of living tissues. 
No climate endows the living organ- 
ism with as much resistance, while at 
the same time it exacts so little in re- 
turn, as that of Southern California. 
Here the weakly, the frail, the warped, 
the victim of overwork, malaria, or 
of former wasting diseases elsewhere, 
may be said to have an equal chance 
in the race for a long life with the 
broad chested and the strong limbed. 
Not only does the climate impart a 
greater resistance, life tenacity, more 
wear and elasticity to the animal tis- 
sues, but the same elements that ac- 
complish all this also carry with them 
such germicidal effects that diseases 
do not seem able to gain a foothold ; 
hence cholera infantum, intestinal dis- 
eases of the young, middle-Hved or 
aged,' pulmonary affections and sum- 
mer or fall fever, do not thrive or do 
they appear even, except in cases of 
the grossest neglect or defiance of all 
hygienic laws ; in fact the utter ab- 
sence of all seasonal diseases as well 
as the freedom from any endemic dis- 
ease is something most remarkable 
and extraordinary. In the bright sun- 
shine, steady breezes from off a wide 
ocean, highly electrical and ozonized 
atmosphere of Southern California, 
neither the bacillus of phthisis, ty- 
phoid fever, nor any other disease 
germ, can long survive in the face of 
these antagonistic and ever-present 
elements destructive to bacillary ex- 
istence. The elsewhere confident and 
triumphant, marauding and murderous 



bacillus here finds its Marathon ; 
and the poor victim and prey to its 
ravages can, on reaching Southern 
California, snap his fingers at that evil 
spirit of modern diseases ; for he has 
here reached a sanctuary, which like 
unto the threshold of the ancient medi- 
eval sanctuary no pursuing enemy 
might cross. The festive microbe, the 
insinuating, wily bacillus and the ubi- 
quitous disease germ find in the chem- 
ical constituents of the Californian 
atmosphere a limit to their empire and 

The pursuit of happiness and the 
enjoyment of life should be our un- 
doubted objects and aims. A lack of 
Abercrombian philosophy and of a 
proper appreciation of the sentiments 
evolved by lyocke, Adam Smith, Mon- 
taigne, Cervantes and other philosoph- 
ical minds, as well as the lack of 
that stoical philosophy of the ancient 
Greeks and Romans that induced Sir 
John lyubbock to exclaim that he 
found more right-down Christianity in 
the writings of many of the old pagan 
authors than he did in most of our 
modern theology, and the perverted 
and Pharisaical cultivation of the 
Christian principle of modern times, 
have all been factors that have sent 
too many of us in the path of the mis- 
guided children of Israel, when in the 
wilderness they fell from the path of 
rationalism and worshiped the golden 
calf. In too many of our pursuits af- 
ter the god who is represented wilh 
wings, and whose daughter is the em- 
blem of fickleness and uncertainty, we 
neglect, until too late, the well-known 
fact that health can purchase wealth ; 
and that at least, if not always able to 
procure us wealth, it never fails to 
bring us that which wealth cannot 
always command, — physical comfort 
and mental enjoyment. I^ike the Old 
Man of the Sea in the "Arabian 
Nights, " we had shouldered a greed for 
wealth, and we are now like poorSind- 
bad, his helpless slave. Like a horrible 
nightmare it chains us in unhealthy 
offices or localities. It makes us dys- 
peptic, tuberculous, or the victim of 

Bright' s disease, diabetes, rheumatism 
or scrofula ; and although we see these 
monsters crawling nearer and nearer, 
taking possession of our vital organs 
and blood, we seem to be unable to 
break the fetters. We toil in varying 
and deadly atmospheres, in dingy base- 
ments, unventilated and musty offices, 
or in unhealthy pursuits, surely going 
quicker and quicker to our death ; 
while health, comfort, freedom from 
care, a Christian disposition and a diet 
of milk and honey, accompanied by all 
that is of the best of the fruits of the 
earth, await for a claimant in the 
broad and fertile acres — bathed in sun- 
shine and fanned by balmy breezes — 
in the wide expanse of Southern Cali- 
fornia, a region where the necessaries 
of life can be purchased at a minimum 
cost, and where the actual physio- 
logical requirements for food are found 
in the greatest variety and abundance 
as well as at all seasons, and where 
man is effectually emancipated from 
that perpetual struggle so forcibly 
noticeable in the East, — that of try- 
ing to keep warm for one half of the 
year, and in vainly endeavoring to 
keep cool during the remainder, — at- 
tempts attended with considerable ex- 
pense and trial of temper as well as 
fearful wear and tear of the constitu- 

Climates have two properties that 
should be of interest to man, these be- 
ing the property of being agreeable and 
the one of inducing health. These two 
conditions or attributes of climate are 
not always found in unison : the first 
of these may be present, but as decep- 
tive in regard to the latter result as the 
shade of the Upas tree, or as to the an- 
ticipated bliss in the caresses of the 
sirens. The agreeableness of a climate 
is but too often as alluring, deceptive 
and fatal as were the blandishments of 
a Cleopatra or of a Delilah. Climate 
controls the question of ventilation and 
diet, of dress and of occupation ; these 
again control the questions of temper, 
disposition, health and disease. The 
range and reach is wonderfully great 
as well as powerful; so that what a 



man wishes to be mentally, physically 
and morally may be said in a great 
measure to be in his own hands and 
directed or modified by climate. Be- 
sides his duty to himself there is a 
progeny that man should not neglect. 
Children, should not be allowed to 
grow where their bodies, minds or 
morals are apt to become warped ; 
they should be where the climatic 
conditions favor all of these conditions 
of our existence to thrive to perfection. 
What the population of Southern Cali- 
fornia is to-day should not be taken as 
a criterion of what the climate can ac- 
complish; it may take a generation or 
more to straighten out the shrunken 
liver in the one or to condense that of 
another and bring back a demoralized 
and lax spleen to a sense of its back- 
sliding after a sojourn in the Edens of 
Indiana or Kansas; it may take a gen- 
eration to eradicate the rheumatic or 
gouty blood bred in localities where 
the extreme cold drives one into too 
gross feeding and ill-ventilated apart- 
ments; but in the end the Southern 
California climate can be trusted for 
successful attempts to accommodate 
the economy so that it will meander 
along on a half remaining kidney or 
an excuse for a relic of a former lung. 
After a prolonged sojourn in this cli- 
mate, indurated, condensed, enlarged, 
inactive livers are reduced to at least 
a part of their original healthy func- 
tions, and wh^it cannot be replaced the 
system seems to get along without. 
Leathery spleens and bowels denuded 
in part of their mucous lining so that 
elsewhere they have lost their physio- 
logical functions seem to regain their 
vitality, and like an old pair of pants 
that have gone through the dyer and 
cleaner's hands may yet be able to do 
duty at a Presidential reception ban- 
quet or at an aldermanic feast. So 

that for young or old, the well or the 
ailing, there is no climate that for the 
whole year, under all circumstances 
and all conditions, can equal that of 
Southern California in its physical, 
mental or moral relations to mankind. 
The great factors of this unique, 
agreeable and healthy climate are the 
peculiarly cool ocean currents of the 
Pacific, the Japan Current, which al- 
though more immediately effective on 
the more northerly coast is neverthe- 
less the factor of our winter rains, 
as without the cyclonic generations 
of this stream Southern California 
would be an arid and rainless region. 
The run of the latitude, the deserts of 
the Mojave and of the Colorado, and the 
peculiar physical conformation of its 
mountain chains, whose crests, like to 
the outer wall of the Roman coliseum, 
form by their hills and valleys an 
enormous amphitheater with Los An- 
geles and San Diego for the arena. As 
this amphitheater is only exposed to 
the southwest, and its outer ramparts 
are sufficiently high to prevent any 
ingress of the heated desert air, it nat- 
urally follows that the locality enjoys 
a perfect marine or insular climate, as 
observed in the beginning of this pa- 
per. The dryness of its soil — due to 
the lack of summer rains and to the 
great natural heat of the soil— favors 
the high electrical condition of the air 
resulting from the friction of different 
temperatured and conditioned currents 
of air. The highly organized atmos- 
phere and its extreme oceanic or insu- 
lar equability, its regular trade winds 
and sea breezes,— remarkably con- 
stant as to temperature and velocity, — 
clear sky and bright sunshine, are all 
elements that conspire to make of 
Southern California a terrestrial para- 


By Frederic J. Masters, D. D. 

is a name giv- 
en to certain 
Chinese se- 
cret societies 
in California 
that profess to 
be benevolent 
but are in re- 
ality bands of 
conspirators, assassins and blackmail- 
ers. The term "highbinder" first 
made its appearance in the columns of 
The Weekly Inspector for December 27, 
1806, describing the riotous behavior 
of a party of Irish banditti belonging 
to an association called " Highbind- 
ers," on Christmas eve of that year. 
Secret societies are known amongst 
the Chinese by the colloquial term 
"hatchet societies," the members of 
which are called "hatchet boys," — 
very significant terms, which aptly de- 
scribe their murderous and destructive 

The founders of Chinese highbinder- 
ism were political refugees who, hav- 
ing made futile attempts to overthrow 
the present reigning dynasty in China, 
were obliged to flee to save their necks. 
The parent root of these numerous se- 
cret associations is known in China as 
the Triad Society, so called because 
the three powers, Heaven, Karth and 
Man, are held by its members in mystic 
veneration. Their revolutionary plots 
were formed with such inscrutable se- 
crecy, and under such artful disguises, 
that all the vigilance of the Chinese 
government, and the ablest detective 
service perhaps in the world, failed to 
discover the conspirators until the Tai 
Ping rebellion broke out, which shook 
the empire to its foundations and de- 
vastated ten provinces with fire and 

The suppression of the revolt by 
General Gordon and his Chinese sol- 
diers, — called "The Bver Victorious 
Arm}'," — and the wholesale execution 
of red-turbaned rebels that followed, 
are matters of recent history. For 
thirty years the Triads showed no 
desire to place themselves in evidence 
in China, until now this hydra-headed 
monster has cropped up once again. 
Emboldened by the growing unpopu- 
larity of the Tartar government, the 
general discontent owing to flood, 
famine and bad times, the rebels have 
come to the front once more. The 
recent ferment along the Yangtsze is 
now admitted to be directed against 
the government; and any day we may 
hear the news that the Ko-Lo-Huey, 
which is simply another name for the 
Triads, has raised the flag of revolt. 
In the Straits Settlements and other 
places where the rebels had found 
shelter, these secret societies have 
grown so formidable and aggressive 
of late years that the English govern- 
ment has had to pass special legisla- 
tion to give relief to the unhappy vic- 
tims of their oppression and rapacity. 

The Triads established themselves 
on this continent some thirty years 
ago under the style of the Chee Kung 
Tong, or "the Chamber of High 
Justice." (A Chinaman can do noth- 
ing without a flaming sign-board and 
a high-sounding name.) This society 
is generally known in the Eastern 
States as the Yee Hing Oey, or " So- 
ciety of Righteous Brethren," being a 
branch of the Tong, whose headquar- 
ters is on Spofibrd alley, San Fran- 

During a raid made by the police a 
manual was discovered which contains 
much information not generally known. 
Its introduction gives a history of the 
rise of Triadism, a story that reads 



more like a legend of King Arthur's 
days than a sober chapter of modern 

In the days of Kang Hi, only 220 
years ago, when the Manchu rule had 
hardly become settled, a rebellion 
broke out on the borders of the Kwang 
Si province amongst the then aboriginal 
tribes of the South. Imperial troops 
were dispatched to the scene of the 
revolt, but none returned to tell the 
story of defeat and massacre. Other 
expeditions sent forth met with no 
better success. The barbarians who 
had repeatedly vanquished the flower 

Triad Banner and Secret Motto. 

of the Imperial army were believed to 
be invincible. The government in its 
desperation issued proclamations offer- 
ing rewards of money, titles and es- 
tates to the successful leader of an 
expedition against the malcontents of 
Sai Low. In the Kow Leen Moun- 
tains of the Fookien province was a 
Buddhist monastery called Shiu Lum, 
the residence of 128 monks, whose 
spare time was spent in athletic exer- 
cises, and whose admission to the 
order was gained by certain tests of 
bodily strength. Having read the 
proclamation, the monks started in a 
body for Pekin, were admitted to an 

audience with the Emperor, and offered 
to put down the rebellion without any 
military assistance. The Emperor, see- 
ing their splendid physique and hear- 
ing of their feats of strength, was 
overjoyed. " Thank Heaven," he ex- 
claimed, " that has given my country 
such stalwart men as these monks of 
Shiu lyum." Having received their 
Imperial commission they set out for 
Sai Ivow, The monks divided them- 
selves into two divisions and fought 
with such skill and intrepidity that 
the rebels were seized with panic and 
fled. No quarter was given; the bar- 
barians were cut to pieces till, as the 
record states, corpses covered the 
ground and blood flowed in streams. 
The victorious monks, without loss of 
life, returned to Pekin. The officials 
met them at the gates, the laureate 
sang ballads celebrating their victory, 
and the conquerors were escorted 
through the crowded streets' to the 
Emperor's palace. When honors and 
rewards were offered them their leader 
exclaimed, "O King, live ten thou- 
" sand years! what have thy servants 
"done to merit these favors? Poor 
" friars are we, who have renounced 
" the world with its pleasures, riches 
" and honors, and have taken vows of 
" poverty that forbid us, O King, to 
" accept thy gifts." The monks now 
returned to their mountain convent, 
the country rang with their fame, but 
the court of Pekin was perplexed. The 
success and popularity of the monks 
aroused the jealousy of the Manchu 
soldiery; their rejection of Imperial fa- 
vors awakened the suspicions of the 
government. One day two ministers 
of state, Cheong Kin Tsau and Chan 
Man Yew, sought audience at court, 
and accused the monks of high treason. 
"These men of Shiu Lum," said they, 
"have such superhuman power that 
" they can with a word bring down 
' ' the sky or raise the earth . Hordes 
" of barbarians that your Majesty's 
" troops tried in vain to subdue have 
"been exterminated by these monks; 
" and now what is there to hinder 
"them carrying out their seditious 



"plots to seize the government and 
"overthrow the state?" At these 
words the Emperor trembled and his 
"dragon countenance changed color." 
"Alas," said the Emperor, "these tid- 
ings cause me much distress. What 
remedy can you suggest?" The minis- 
ters then stated in detail their plans, 
obtained Imperial authority to carry 
them out, and departed after assuring 
his Majesty that by the spring of the 
year all would be well. On the fifteenth 
of the first month Cheong Kin Tsau, 
with a body of troops, arrived at the 
Shiu Lum Monastery. The troops were 
left outside, while their leader and 
suite entered the gates, and with many 
expressions of respect presented a let- 
ter from the Emperor and a present of 
choice wine. The letter said: " We 
" have heard of your piety and learn- 
" ing, and how while others enjoy the 
"pleasures and luxuries of the town 
" you dwell in solitude, studying na- 
" ture in forest and sky. We have not 
" forgotten your brave deeds at Sai 
" Low, and have sent you a present of 
" wine with which to regale yourselves 
"this festive month." The abbot 
bowed reverently and said, " We are 
" but rustics of the hills, and have 
" done nothing to merit the Son of 
"Heaven's interest in our behalf." 
To whom Cheong Kin Tsau replied: 
" Nay! but my Imperial master often 
" alludes to your heroic deeds. His 
" Majesty desires to appoint you to 
" high military office, but you holy 
" men prefer meditation amidst* forest 
" shades rather than the service of the 
"state. I, a humble officer of the 
" government, come here at his Majes- 
" ty's command to bear his gracious 
" message and present. Now, there- 
" fore, let the wine be drunk, that I 
' ' may hasten to other duties.' ' There- 
upon a feast was prepared, the tables 
spread, and the jars opened, when lo! 
a black vapor was seen to rise from 
the opened jars, filling the room with 
a poisonous stench. The assembled 
monks gazed at each other in blank 
amazement. " What wine is this that 
hath so offensive an odor? " demanded 

the abbot. ' * Bring forth our founder' a 
• ' precious sword, and let the wine be 
"tested." The sword is produced, 
thrust into the jar, and withdrawn 
with evident marks of poison on the 
blade. Then was the abbot filled with 
rage, and demanded of Cheong Kin. 
Tsau what they had done to deserve- 
such treatment from a government; 
they had served so faithfully. While 
he was speaking an explosion shook 
the building, flames and smoke burst 
forth, while on all sides were heard the 
sounds of battle horns and drums and 
the tramp of armed men. Hemmed in 
by flaming walls and the swords of the 
soldiers, 'escape seemed hopeless. Of" 
the 128 monks only eighteen escaped. 
These rushed to the rear of the monas- 
tery, cast themselves upon the ground, 
and prayed the protection of Amitabh 
Buddha. The story is so interwoven- 
with legend that we are not surprised 
to read that in answer to their prayers, 
two genii appeared who opened up a 
way for their escape. These eighteen 
fugitive monks, pursued by the sol- 
diery, now fled to the desert, where, as 
the narrative tells us, they were over- 
taken by a storm, and thirteen perished 
from exposure and starvation. The 
five survivors were soon discovered 
and again hotly pursued by the Tartar 
soldiers. After many vicissitudes, pri- 
vations and hardships, we are told they 
one day saw a stone tripod lying by 
the wayside. While handling this 
utensil one of the priests discovered 
four mystic characters engraven on 
the bottom, ''Fan tsing.fuk ming;'' 
"overturn Tsing, restore Ming." * 

Upon finding this tripod the five 
monks knelt down and worshiped 
Heaven and earth. A porcelain bowl 
was then used for a divining block, 
it being determined that, if the bowl 
were thrown thrice and fell unbroken, 
it should be taken as a sign that 
the blood of their slain brethren 
would be avenged. The fates were 
propitious, the omen was accepted as a 

• Tsing is the nam-e of the present reigning 
dynasty, and Ming the name of the late native 
dynasty dethroned by the Manchus in 1644. 



pledge of victory, and these five Budd- 
hist monks whose pictures are given in 
the ritual henceforth became the foun- 
ders of the Triad Society, whose vow 
is recorded never to rest till the wrongs 
of their order have been avenged, the 
hated Manchu dynasty overthrown, 
and a descendant of the ancient kings 
placed on the dragon throne. Such 
is supposed to be the origin of the 
Triads, known in this country as the 
Chee Kung Tong and the Yee Hing 

There is no time to follow its course 
during the subsequent two hundred 
years. Whatever may be its character 
to-day its original purpose was plain. 
Its founders set out to revenge a cruel 
massacre and break off a hated for- 
eign yoke, objects which it has sought 
to accomplish by methods more secret 
and infernal than those adopted by the 
nihilists or the Clan na Gael. 

It is impossible within the limits of 
this paper to give a translation of this 
singular little book, or to describe the 
elaborate ritual, oaths of initiation,, 
secret signs, secret words and the mili- 
tary system that regulates this mys- 
terious association. There are many 
characters and symbols expressed in 
terms, the meaning of which can 
hardly be guessed at. 

The rite of initiation is a ceremony 
so terrible that one is not surprised to 
hear that nervous men have lost their 
wits passing through the trying ordeal. 
The sight of quaintly robed men 
moving solemnly about, fierce lictors 
and door-keepers brandishing spears 
and swords, the gorgeous altar with 
its gilded dragon carvings, tinseled 
drapery and heavy oriental hangings, 
the altar lights that bum dimly in the 
incense-laden air, lighting up the faces 
of the images of the five monks and 
the sterner visage of Kwan Kung, 
the god of war, is a spectacle in itself 
sufiicient to strike with awe the mind 
of the superstitious novice who enters 
this chamber for the first time. 

The neophyte is escorted by the 
champion Sin Fung to the first por- 
tal, where he is challenged, threat- 

ened with death, and finally admitted 
on giving the password. Here he 
casts off the Manchu costume, unplaits 
the queue, which is a Manchu append- 
age, and proceeds to don garments 
made after the fashion of the Ming 
dynasty. He now appears clad in a 
gown of five colors, a white girdle 
around the waist and a red cloth bound 
round the head. It is curious to note 
that this red turban was the distin- 
guishing mark of the Tae Pings, who 
are still spoken of as the "red-tur- 
baned rebels." 

Entering the second portal the neo- 
phyte crawls on hands and knees 
under an arch of swords that meet 
teeth-like above him. The grand mas- 
ter of the society is called ' ' Ah Ma, ' ' 
or ' ' Mother. ' ' He is dressed in the 
Ming costume, with long unplaited 
hair, and is attended by his high officers 
of state on either side of the throne. The 
neophyte bows down before Ah Ma, 
and declares that he accepts the twen- 
ty-one regulations. A cup of wine is 
now prepared, the tip of each candi- 
date's finger is pierced with a silver 
needle, and a drop of blood from each 
man's hand is allowed to fall into the 
wine cup. This potion of mingled 
wine and blood is drunk by the mem- 
bers present, symbolizing the admis- 
sion of the candidates into the blood re- 
lationship. The neophyte also crawls 
under the bench or chair on which Ah 
Ma is seated, a ceremony which means 
being born again. In some places it 
is said Ah Ma is stripped naked; and 
the new-birth ceremony is too digust- 
ing for description. The novice has 
now renounced allegiance to the Em- 
peror, and foresworn forever his par- 
ents, kith and kin. Henceforth he is 
a member of the Hung family, and 
recognizes no other head but the grand 
master, who' is at once parent and 
chief. It may be remarked that, in a 
land where filial piety is the first and 
most sacred of duties, it is not surpris- 
ing that this society should be held up 
to universal execration. 

At the third portal the neophyte is 
instructed in all the secret signs of the 



society. Worsliip is offered to Heaven 
and Earth, to the spirits of the 
slaughtered priests, and to the spirits 
of the ancient kings. Incense and 
gilt paper are burnt, candles lighted, 
and libations of wine and tea are' 
poured out to the gods. Thirty-five 
solemn oaths mostly in rhyme are 
chanted before the High Altar. A 
rooster's head is cut off, and as the 
blood flows the neophyte swears eter- 
nal fidelity to the head of the Hung 
state. He thus imprecates death by 
decapitation upon himself if ever his 
oath be broken, and recites words 
which may be translated thus: 

From rooster's head, from rooster's head, 
See how the fresh blood flows. 
If loyal and brave my course shall be 
My heirs immortal renown shall see; 
But when base traitor and coward turn I, 
Slain on the road my body shall lie. 

He also swears never to divulge the 
secrets of the society or refuse to obey 
its mandates, imprecating upon him- 
self the cruel death of the traitor Ma 
Ning. He also chants a stanza of 
which the following will ser\'e as a 
rough translation : 

By this red drop of blood on finger tip I 

The secrets of this Tong I never will declare. 
Seven gaping wounds shall drain my life 

Should I to alien ears my sacred trust betray. 

Generally speaking, he swears to 
keep alive the spirit of revenge, and 
to wipe out in blood the wrongs done 
to the founders of the society. He 
vows eternal enmity to the Manchu 
government, and promises to use every 
endeavor to restore a native dynasty 
to the dragon throne. 

A very singular custom is that which 
requires the neophytes to run the gaunt- 
let of two ranks of Triad men, who 
are at liberty to inflict corporal pun- 
ishment upon any one discovered to 
have been an old offender against the 
society. Having received with be- 
coming submission this severe cudgel- 
ling, he is supposed to have expiated 
past offenses, past wrongs are forgiven, 
and he is received into the inner circle 
of the brotherhood. 

Of course these ceremonies, with 
their accompanying signs and pass- 
words, are a precaution against in- 
trusion. Woe to the spy who, under 
pretense of becoming a member, seeks 
to discover its leaders and pry into its 
secrets. Maybe there is some truth in 
the popular belief that a few such at- 
tempts have been made by persons 
who have paid the price of their in- 
trepidity, and have never been seen 
again. As a secret society the Triads 



Precious Relics of the Triad Society. 

I. Sacred Jacket of 
Shiu Lum Monks. 

2. Sacred Beads or Ros- 
ary of Ihe Five Friars. 

make much of the language of signs 
and symbols. Signs and words that 
are meaningless to outsiders enable 
members of the society to discover 
each other, and hold communication 
in the presence of strangers. The rit- 
ual is full of these signs. With no 
key to their interpretation it is impos- 
sible even to guess at their signifi- 

The social custom of tea-drinking, 
and the ever-present pot of tea and 
tray of small cups, found in every 
Chinese store and reception room, 
furnish materials for a system of signs. 



depending upon the positions of a cer- 
tain number of cups in relation to the 
teapot. Sometimes the cups are ar- 
ranged in a row, or in pairs, or placed 
on the top of each other, with the pot 
on the right-hand side. Sometimes 
the teapot is placed in the center with 
a certain number of cups arranged in 
diflferent positions around it. Again 
the pot is sometimes placed in front, 
or behind the cups, or at one or other 
extremity of a row of cups. A great 
deal also depends upon which direc- 
tion the spout points. On some oc- 
casions the cups are placed in the 
form of certain Chinese characters, no- 
tably the character Hung, the secret 
name of the society. Some signifi- 
cance is also attached to the way a 
cup of tea is drunk ; as, for instance, 
when a person takes up a cup of tea, 
pours it back into the pot, and again 
refills the cup and drinks. Or the cup 
is taken up with five fingers and drunk 
while held with three. What all this 
means it is impossible to conjecture. 
To an outsider nothing unusual has 
taken place, and yet important com- 
munications have been made which 
only those en rapport have understood. 
In drinking tea a member of the Yee 
Hing or Chee Kung societies can 
always be known by the way he raises 
the cup to his lips. He takes hold of 
the edge between the thumb and two 
first fingers, the first finger being held 
inside the cup. In a crowd one mem- 
ber can discover another's presence 
by pressing the thumb and two fingers 
against another's arm or body, the 
thumb and two fingers being placed in 
the shape of the legs of a tripod. This 
is called "the three-cornered seal," 
and is usually applied from under the 
blouse. In a street quarrel a Yee 
Hing man is recognized by his fellovvs 
by having his queue twisted round his 
head from left to right instead of from 
right to It ft, the ends of the queue 
hanging over the right shoulder in- 
stead of the left. 

Of the secret words used by the so- 
ciety I can only select a few from the 
vocabulary given in the ritual. If a 

member is ordered to kill a person he 
is told to "wash his body," the idea 
being that a baptism of blood can alone 
wash out the wrong done by an enemy 
to the society. A rifle is called a " big 
dog;" a revolver, a puppy; powder 
and bullet are called " dog feed;" and 
the order to fire is expressed by the 
innocent sentence, ' ' let the dogs bark.' ' 
These phrases will serve to illustrate 
the euphemistic terms used as secret 
words by members in conversation 
with each other on the public street, 
or where strangers are present 

1. Mirror of Yam Yeung. 4 

2. Sacred Bowl. ,^ „ , 

X Sacred Tripod used by the Monks. 
X. Precious Sword of the Founder of the Shm Lum 

It is no doubt the use of passwords, 
secret signs and other formulae which 
has given rise to the impression that 
the Chee Kung Tong is a species of 
Free Masonry. This notion has been 
of great advantage to the Chee Kungs. 
It has given them a show of respect- 
ability that has long masked their real 
character from the eyes of American 
people. The fact is, as Mr. J. S. Hop- 
per of Canton well says, "There is no 
more resemblance between Free Ma- 
sonry in this country and the Yee 
Hing Society than there is between 
the Grand Array of the Republic and 
the Chicago Anarchists;" and this is 



proved by the many overt acts of ter- 
rorism, violence and crime that have 
made this society so deservedly odious 
to all peaceable and law-abiding Chi- 

As the book of ritual was in all 
probability prepared two hundred years 
ago, we shall search in vain for any 
authority for the highbinder tactics of 
modern days. The character of the so- 
ciety has completely changed since it 
has been transplanted to this country. 
While retaining all the old political 
nomenclature and forms, it is practi- 
cally dead as a revolutionary center. 
The horrors of the late rebellion, the 
savage cruelties perpetrated by its 
leaders, and the rapacity of their suc- 
cessors to-day, have so alienated the 
great mass of Chinese that they are in 
no hurry to support a cruel tyranny, 
in comparison with which even the 
grinding Manchu rule is a reign of 
mercy. Its political hopes extin- 
guished it has now degenerated into 
a rendezvous of assassins and black- 
mailers. Professing to be a benevolent 
association formed for mutual protec- 
tion it is in reality a self-constituted 
star chamber, an organized band of 
villains who rule with a rod of iron. 
It is not denied that there are respect- 
able men enrolled in the association 
who would repudiate deeds of violence. 
These most likely joined under a wrong 
impression; but, once a member, with- 
drawal is next to impossible. The so- 
ciety's manual frankly admits that its 
members are drawn from all ranks of 
life, — rich and poor, learned and illit- 
erate, honest men and swindlers, ban- 
ditti of the mountains, pirates of tha 
seas, and tramps of the public street. 
The respectable and honest are few and 
far between. The society is a cave of 
AduUam, — a resort for all who are 
in distress or in debt or discontented. 
The worst desperadoes of the Canton 
province, whose heads would have 
adorned the tower over some city gate 
had they remained in China, find an 
asylum under our beneficent laws, and 
procure congenial employment as the 
salaried soldiers of the Tong. 

About three years ago a conspiracy 
was formed by the Victoria, B, C, 
branch of the Chee Kung Tong to 
assassinate the Rev. J. E. Gardner, a 
missionary who had been instrumental 
in breaking up the traffic in Chinese 
women that had been carried-on there 
under the patronage of the Chee Kung 
Tong. With the aid of the police 
Mr. Gardner succeeded in detecting 
the hired asssassin, Lum Hip. In 
the room were found coats of mail 
and weapons of war ; and on the per- 
son of Lum Hip was found a Chinese- 
written document which turned out to 
be a highbinder's commission. There 
was no doubt about its genuineness, as 
it bore the well-known seal of the 
Chee Kung Tong. It is a tell-tale 
paper and is worth translating, as it 
gives a clear insight into the work- 
ings of these so-called Chinese Free 
Masons : 

To Lutn Hip, Salaried Soldier : 

It is well known that plans and schemes 
of government are the work of the learned 
holders of the seal ; while to oppose foes, 
fight battles, and plant firm government, is 
the work of the military. This agreement 
is made with the above-named salaried sol- 
dier on account of sedition from within and 
derision and contempt from without. You, 
Lum Hip, together with all other salaried 
soldiers, shall act only when orders are given; 
and without orders you shall not act. But 
in case of emergency when our members, 
for instance, are suddenly attacked, you 
shall act according to the expediency of 
the case, and enter the arena if necessary. 
When orders are given you shall advance 
valiantly to your assigned duty, striving to 
be first, and only fearing to be found laggard. 
Never shrink or turn your back upon the 

You shall go under orders from our direc- 
tor to all the vessels arriving in port with 
prostitutes on board, and shall be on hand 
to receive them. Always be punctual ; work 
for the good of the State (the society), and 
serve us with all your ability. If, in the dis- 
charge of your duties, you are slain, this 
Tong undertakes to pay ^^500.00 sympathy 
money to your friends. If you are wounded, 
a surgeon shall be engaged to heal your 
wounds; and, if you are laid up for any length 
of time, you shall receive $10.00 per month. 
If you are maimed for life, and incapacitated 
for service, you shall receive the additional 
sum of I250.00 ; and a subscription shall be 
opened to defray the expenses of your 
passage home. 



This document is given as proof, as an oral 
promise may uot be credited. 

// is fnrlker sti/>ulaled that y.)U, in com- 
itn m with your comrades, shall exert your- 
self to kill, or wound, any one at the direction 
X)f this Tong. If, in so doing, you are ar- 
rested and have to endure the miseries of 
imprisonment, this society undertakes to 
send lioj.ou, every year, to your family, 
during Lhe term of your incaroeraiion. 

Seal of the Victoria branch of the Chee 
Kung Tong. 

Dated Juiy 2nd, 1887. 

In the headquarters of the society 
Is a courtroom, where so-called rebels 
against the State are tried and con- 
demned, the presence of the accused 
at the trial not being thought neces- 
sary. A meeting is then held, where the 
members present deliberately select sol- 
diers, whose business it shall be to 
discover the culprit and take away his 
life. How many poor wretches in this 
country have been done to death, and 
their corpses spirited away, the coro- 
ner will never know. 

In San Francisco the power of the 
'Chee Kung Tong is neutralized by 
tiio opposition of the other rival socie- 
ties ; but in the smaller Chinese com- 
munities of the Eastern cities they 
reign supreme under the title of Yee 
Hing. A Chinaman must have more 
than common courage to defy the 
mandates and brave the maledictions 
•of the grim tribunal that works in the 
secrecy of darkness, and, in the eyes 
of the Chinese, has more power to 
give effect to its penal decrees than 
all the courts of the United States. 

A few months ago a superintendent 
of a Chinese Sunday School, in New 
England, learning that several mem- 
bers of the school had joined the Yee 
Hing Society, informed them that they 
must either renounce that society or 
else withdraw from the school. There- 
upon they withdrew in a body and 
proceeded to intimidate the non-society 
men, ordering them to leave the school 
under threats of loss of business and 
employment. They succeeded in 
frightening away all but two or three 
non-society men, who had been brave 
enough to expose the workings of the 
society, and were consequently threat- 

ened with death. It is superfluous to 
mention that this and all other secret 
societies are bitterly h6stile to their 
Christian fellow-countrymen, especi- 
ally in the case of those Christians 
who were former members of the Yee 
Hing and are naturally regarded as 
traitors. The writer counts, among 
the members of his church, one or two 
who had graduated to high rank in 
the society, but are now consistent 
Christians ; and the persecutions to 
which they are exposed from the so- 
ciety, whose allegiance they have re- 
nounced, and whose vengeance they 
have dared to provoke, illustrates what 
it costs many Chinese to become Chris- 
tians in America. 

One of the worst features of this se- 
cret society — and the same applies to 
all the other highbinder associations — 
is its mischievous interference with the 
administration of justice. With un- 
limited funds at their disposal to 
employ counsel, suborn perjury, bribe 
the venal, and employ agents to in- 
timidate the other side, it is almost 
impossible to secure the conviction of 
the criminal around whom this un- 
scrupulous society has thrown its pro- 
tecting arms. In proof of this there 
are many instances on record. There 
is the case of Lee Sam, a Chee Kung 
Tong man, who on the nth Novem- 
ber, 1887, was held to answer the 
charge of throwing vitriol in a China- 
woman's eyes, almost depriving her 
of sight; yet he was acquittedby the Su- 
perior Court, the woman having been 
in the interim intimidated to say that 
she could not identify him. 

While the highbinders know how 
to save their friends from the law, 
they also know how to employ the 
processes of the law to fight foes. 
With sharp, cunning Chinamen, to 
say nothing of unprincipled white 
men in their employ familiar with the 
procedure of our courts, well versed 
in the laws of evidence, and capable of 
forging a complete and invincible chain 
of evidence, it is possible to trump up 
charges against innocent men who 
have been so unfortunate as to incur 



the enmity of this relentless foe. 
Several visits to the State prison, and 
conversations with Chinese convicts, 
have convinced the writer that many 
innocent men are languishing in our 
penal settlements, the unhappy vic- 
tims of highbinder conspiracies. This, 
however, is not as extensively carried 
on as in years gone by. To swear an 
enemy's life away or get him sent 
into penal servitude was once regarded 
as a surer and safer mode of revenge 
than to shoot him down on the street; 
but revelations made from time to time 
of the workings of the society, as 
for instance in the celebrated trial at 
St. Louis in 1885, when trumped- 
up charges of murder were brought 
against six members of the Che 
Clan, have tended to shake the high- 
binder's confidence in the eflSciency of 
our judicial system as a machine for 
secret society vengeance. 

To describe the smaller and less in- 
fluential highbinder institutions would 
be to repeat much that has been writ- 
ten. The Chinese have a common 
saying, " When you only the head can 
"see you surely can tell what the 
"tail will be." Many of the local 
"hatchet societies" are the tail end 
of the Chee Kung Tong, or allies that 
do its dirtiest work. Others are inde- 
pendent hatchet establishments, alike 
in character, but hostile to each other. 
The Chee Kung Tong is generally 
looked upon as the most influential; 
and disputes between associations 
friendly to them are often referred to 
their arbitration. The origin of these 
smaller societies is easily accounted 
for: Some dispute has arisen in the 
parent society, and a faction secedes, 
forming for instance the Ping Kung 
Tong. Sometimes a number of China- 
men of the same clan, bound together 
by a common interest, combine to 
protect themselves against the aggres- 
sion of some dominant association. 
Other societies are formed to con- 
trol and protect, for instance, the 
brothel interest, as the Wa Ting Shan 
Fong; or the gambling interest, as 
the Hip Shing Tong; or the traffic in 

women, as the Kwong Tak and On 
l^eong societies. Sometimes a society 
is started for purely benevolent, tribal, 
patriotic or social purposes, like our 
American clubs, but degenerate into 
highbinder societies. Some insult has 
been offered or injury done by mem- 
bers of another organization; this is 
resented by the younger and hotheaded 
members of the aggrieved society; a 
quarrel ensues, and the whole club 
easily becomes embroiled in a high- 
binder strife. 

The initiation of "hatchet boys" is 
simpler than that of the triads above 
described. The candidate kneels before 
the god of war, crossed swords are laid 
on the floor in front of him, and a naked 
sword is held over his head while he 
swears fidelity and obedience to the 
directors of the Tong. At least twenty 
per cent of the members are salaried 
fighters, provided with chain armor, 
knives, revolvers, iron cudgels and 
other weapons of war. When a high- 
binder steals a woman out of a brothel 
under the protection of another society, 
or when a society, in its blackmailing 
raids, poaches upon the preserves of a 
rival Tong, there follows one of those 
little street battles which gives these 
soldiers something to do. When a 
slave woman escapes from a house of 
ill fame in which a highbinder society 
is interested, it is a common thing to 
swear out some charge against her, 
such as grand larceny. She is arrested^ 
thrown into prison, and bailed out by 
her owners, who then have her in their 
power. If she agrees to return to the 
bagnio the complainant fails to iden- 
tify her, and the case is dismissed. 
When the woman escapes to the mis- 
sion and is arrested, the missionaries 
are able to protect the poor woman 
from the villains who, by means of 
the processes of law, would drag her 
back again to a den of infamy. In 
some cases the Chinaman who has 
helped the woman to escape is discov- 
ered, and is summarily dealt with 
unless reparation is speedily made. 
In two cases that have come under the 
wrrter's notice these men have been 



charged with murder and thrown into 
prison. But for the interference of the 
writer they would, in all probability, 
have lost their lives or been sentenced 
to penal servitude. 

There is a case still pending at 
Stockton, California, which illustrates 
this. A Chinese merchant of the Ko 
family married a woman from a den 
under the control of the On Yick So- 
ciety. Mr. Ko had already paid a large 
part of her redemption money, and 
more exorbitant demands were made 
which Ko refused to meet. About two 
years ago charges were trumped up 
against man and wife. Ko was ar- 
rested and taken to Sacramento. The 
wife was afterwards arrested and taken 
en route for Auburn. This place she 
never reached. On the way there the 
police constable permitted the substi- 
tution of another woman. Mrs. Ko 
was spirited away and has never been 
seen since. Whether she is murdered 
or held for ransom, who shall say ? 
The constable, a highbinder's agent, 
was arrested, convicted of kidnaping, 
and now seeks a new trial ! Months 
passed, and then followed another 
tragedy. A member of the Ko family 
who had assisted in the prosecution 
of the constable was suddenly shot 
down in the streets of San Francisco. 
Over two years have passed since the 
kidnaping. Ko's wife has not been 
found, nor have the real criminals 
been brought to justice. Such cases 
as these shake the faith of the Chinese 
in our courts of justice. Who could 
wonder if a man like Ko, despairing 
of obtaining redress by legal methods, 
should employ some rival hatchet so- 
ciety to avenge his murdered wife and 
kinsman ? Scores of similar incidents 
might be given. I^et these suffice. 

In the light of these facts it will be 
interesting to study the names of these 
so-called benevolent societies. High- 
sounding, grandiloquent signs have 
been chosen with unblushing audac- 
ity, and with painful disregard of the 
laws of congruity. One society, or- 
ganized for the purpose of importing 
slave prostitutes into the country, 

rejoices in the name of Kwong Tak 
Tong, which means, " the chamber of 
far-reaching virtue ' ' ! Another society 
that traffics in women is called the On 
Leong Tong, or the "chamber of tran- 
quil conscientiousness " ! Glorious ti- 
tles are given to the ' ' hatchet socie- 
ties ' ' that are responsible for most of 
the shooting scrapes that have dis- 
graced Chinatown. The Hip Shing 
Tong means "the hall of victorious 
union." The Hop Shing Tong means 
"the hall of associated conquerors." 
The Sui Shing Tong means "hall of 
auspicious victory." The Sui On 
Tong means ' ' hall of realized repose. ' ' 
The Ping Kung Tong means " hall of 
maintained justice." An institution 
that draws a revenue from houses of 
ill fame enjoys the romantic name of 
Wa Ting Shan Fong, or ' ' flowery 
arbor mountain booth." Two socie- 
ties that raised in one meeting $30,000 
to protect and defend the notorious 
assassin Lee Chuck are called respec- 
tively the ' ' guild for the protection of 
virtue," and " the guild of hereditary- 
virtue," — fine names, it must be con- 
fessed, for two societies of such in- 
grained criminality as the Po Shin She 
and the Kai Shin She. 

The associations above enumerated 
are the principal highbinder organiza- 
tions in San Francisco. These are 
the bands of criminals who have de- 
fied our laws, terrorized over their 
fellow-countrymen and laid half of 
Chinatown under tribute. Their vic- 
tims have calmly submitted to their 
rapacious demands, knowing that re- 
sistance was vain. With a bulldog at 
his throat a man cannot say or do 
much. It is better policy to keep 
quiet and pay the demanded percent- 
age on his earnings and profits than 
raise a fuss that may only result in loss 
of business, loss of employment, and 
perhaps loss of life. With no one to 
interfere with them, secure under our 
laws and institutions, these associa- 
tions have grown fat, flourished and 
multiplied. Some of them being incor- 
porated as benevolent associations, they 
are assumed to be what they profess 



until proved to the contrary. And 
who shall do this ? Suppose they are 
proceeded against by regular legal 
process, against whom is an action to 
be brought ? Who are the responsible 
heads ? Who can identify the oflScers 
of the association, the criminality of 
which is generally admitted? Who 
will undertake to get behind the 
scenes, gain admission at the closely 
guarded doors, report proceedings at 
their meetings and gather evidence 
connecting the responsible officers of 
the society with the crimes alleged to 
have been committed at their instiga- 
tion ? It is certain that no white man 
could do this without being detected. 
It is equally certain that no Chinaman 
could be found with sufficient courage 
to run the gauntlet of armed men, and 
the certainty of being cut to pieces if 
discovered. Even supposing a China- 
man dared to come forward and ex- 
pose these centers of crime, it is 
doubtful whether a jury would give 
any weight to his testimony, uncor- 
roborated by white men's evidence, in 
the face of the hosts of witnesses mar- 
shaled by the other side. 

To grapple with this evil by consti- 
tutional methods I know of only one 
plan, and that is the employment of a 
Chinese detective force such as can be 
found in the British colonies of the 
East, — men, even Chinamen, who have 
established a character for veracity, 
and whose word is balieved in a court 
of law. When it is remembered that 
there is not an officer on the police 
force of this city who can read or speak 
Chinese, it is remarkable that so many 
Chinese offenders are arrested and con- 
victed every year. There are no doubt 
many Chinese in Chinatown who are 
willing unofficially to aid the officers 
in ferreting out criminals; but as a gen- 
eral rule, and especially so in the case 
of highbinders, an irresponsible China- 
man is in no hurry to meddle with 
other people's affairs to the risk of his 
own life. There is no reason, how- 
ever, why a Chinaman well paid, regu- 
larly employed and supported by the 
authorities, should not do as faithful 

and efficient detective work in this city 
as is done by the Hongkong native 
police, many of whom are brave, in- 
telligent, upright men. 

It may be interesting to glance at 
some typical highbinders and leaders 
in the various societies who are now in 
the hands of the law. The faces 
present an interesting physiological 
study. Their histories may be briefly 
told in the following, taken, by the 
courtesy of Chief Crowley, from the 
records of his department : 

No. I. Leong Yuen Gun, blackmailer 
and fighter, belonging to the Wah Ting 
Shan Feng Society. He is serving a ten- 
year sentence in the State Prison for shoot- 
ing Jare Hoy on Dupont street. ' 

No. 2. Wong Fun Kim, member of the 
Chee Kung Tong, a murderer and kidnaper. 
He was sent to the State Prison from Hum- 
boldt County for manslaughter, and from this 
city for stealing a Chinese woman. 

No. 3. Lee Sam was arrested and charged 
with throwing vitriol into the eyes of Fong 
Lin, an inmate of a house on Sullivan alley. 
He is a prominent member of the Chee 
Kung Tong Society, and is known to the 
police as a very desperate character. 

No. 4. Yee Hong Yuen, convicted with 
No. 6 of same crime. 

No. 5. Tarm Poi, a murderer and 
" hatchet man," a member of the Chee 
Kung Tong Society. He has been sen- 
tenced to be hanged for chopping to death 
Fong Hoy, on the corner of Dupont and 
Jackson streets. 

No. 6. Yee Lock, a robber and shooter of 
the Sui On Tong Society. He is now se v- 
ing a sentence of fifteen years in the State 
Prison for garroting and robbing the wife of 
Mah You Lin. 

No. 7. Lee Chuck, a murderer, black- 
mailer and robber, member of the Kai Shin 
She Society. He acted as the bodyguard of 
the notorious Fong Ching, alias Little Pete. 
He is now in the State Prison, serving a 
fifty-year sentence for murdering Yin Yuen 
on Washington Street at midday. Referred 
to in this article. 

No. 8. Fong Ah Sing, a murderer and 
blackmailer, a member of the Tak Kung 
Tong and Ping Kung Tong highbinder asso- 
ciations. He succeeded in procuring arti- 
cles of incorporation for his society, after 
which he exclaimed: "Now I have power ! " 
This man shot and killed Toy Gam, an in- 
mate of a house in Kung Kuk alley. He 
was hanged for this murder in the County 
Jail. The Ping Kung Tong is a branch of 
the Chee Kung Tong Society. These two 
societies are at enmity with each other. 

Typical Highbinders. 



About a year ago they had a celebration, and 
a fight occurred, in which several persons 
were shot. 

No. 9. Lee Kay, a CheeKungTongman. 
In the daytime, on Post street, near Dupont, 
he threw pepper into the eyes of a white 
woman and attempted to rob her. He was 
sent to the State Prison for twelve years. 

There is another plan, and the only- 
effective method of suppressing high- 
binder societies. The long-continued 
feuds, the frequent assassinations on 
the streets, the provoking taciturnity 
of Chinese eye-witnesses of crime 
when questioned by detectives, and 
the scandalous miscarriage of justice 
in highbinder trials, have demonstrated 
to a certainty that if Chinese secret 
societies are to be broken up it can- 
not be done by constitutional means. 
Last January a dozen highbinders 
opened fire upon each other on a pub- 
lic street of San Francisco in broad 
daylight. Before the police arrived 
the assassins had fled and covered up 
their tracks. The Chief of Police now 
resolved upon heroic measures, and 
very pluckily gave orders to break up 
their camps and halls of meeting. For 
two or three days the police invaded 
their headquarters, tearing down sign- 
boards, demolishing idols and furni- 
ture, and leaving nothing behind but 
a heap of debris. The Chee Kung 
Tong, the very center and pivot of 
highbinderism, was the last to fall. 
This caused the greatest sensation. It 
was then seen that the police meant 
business. The great mass of the 
Chinese were wild with joy. The 
news spread like wildfire. Merchants 
chuckled over their counters with 

undisguised satisfaction. Men walked 
the streets with a lighter tread. A 
heavy yoke seemed to be lifted off 
men's shoulders. The bloody hand of 
masked ruffianism had relaxed its 
grip upon men's throats. People 
breathed freer. The only unhappy 
looking individuals were the "hatchet 
boys," who were thrown into a state of 
panic and bewilderment. 

It must be a source of gratification 
to Chief Crowley to know that his ac- 
tion is universally indorsed, not only 
by Americans, but by the Chinese 
legation and consulate, the Six Com- 
panies, and the Chinese merchants, 
hundreds of whom, it is said, have 
signed a paper undertaking to indem- 
nify the Chief against any possible loss 
in an action at law. The result proves 
unquestionably that the great majority 
of Chinese in California are on the side 
of law and order, and shows how a 
few hundred desperadoes can domineer 
over a whole community. 

Let highbinders and all other sons 
of nox and chaos beware, that whether 
they belong to the Chee Kung Tong, 
the Mafia, the Clan na Gael or any 
other such association, this country 
is no place for secret tribunals, bloody 
plots and dark conspiracies ; and if 
they will defy our laws, assassinate 
innocent people, and tamper with our 
courts of justice, they will do so at 
their peril; for a long-suffering but 
outraged community may rise some 
day and cast them forth with all other 
devil-possessed things into the Gada- 
rean abyss. 


By George Brooke. 

HERE was a min- 
ing camp on the 
Trinity in the fall and win- 
ter of '52-' 53 called Bul- 
ler's Flat. It was a small 
camp and a poor one. 
There weren't more than 
a hundred men working 
there at any time, and 
those who were there were never very- 
well to do. So poor indeed was the 
camp at the time I write of that it 
boasted only one drinking-saloon and 

This same gambling-house was run 
by a man called Ledger, a good-look- 
ing scamp enough, tall and dark, with 
black eyes and mustache. Always well 
dressed and carefully groomed, he was 
the best-looking man in camp; not 
that any one save himself thought or 
cared anything about that; but there 
was a woman there with whom every 
last man of us was in love; and good 
clothes and shining shoes make a heap 
of difference to a woman, or at least 
men always think so, and we thought 
so and consequently were jealous of 
Ledger. There was only one man in 
camp though outside of Ledger that 
any one of us thought had a chance 
with the girl, and that was my partner 
Jim Pardee. Jim was popular, and 
never a man in the outfit begrudged 
him his chance with the girl; but all 
the same they were jealous of Ledger 
and swore that sooner than see him 
carry her off they would string him up 
to the handiest sugar-pine. 

The girl was called Kit. She was 
only sixteen or so, — ^just a slip of a 
thing with yellow hair and gray eyes, 
and no figure to speak of. She lived 
with an old reprobate who called him- 
self her father and passed under the 
name of Rowan. I never knew 
whether he was her father or not, but 
anyway he said he was, and the boys 

accepted him as Kit's parent, and his 
flour sack was never empty, and his 
coffee and bacon never grew less. He 
was a loafer, was the old man; he hung 
around Ledger's from night till morn- 
ing and then from morning to night 
again, until he got his usual load of 
alcohol on board; then he staggered 
home to his cabin and turned in. He 
never abused Kit after one night Jim 
caught him at it and frightened the 
old chap so that he swore never to lay 
hands on her again, and his fear of 
Jim made him stand by it. 

Jim and I were partners, as I have 
said, and he had told me many a time 
how much he loved Kit, and said that 
all he wanted of the world was dust 
enough to buy and stock a ranch he 
knew of in the Sacramento Valley, and 
he'd marry her and carry her off there, 
and they'd live happy ever after. 

Jim would sit and talk about Kit and 
that ranch till all hours, and I'd just 
go to sleep and fall off my seat and 
wake up to find him still talking about 
them; but our claim never panned out 
rich, and one day we made up our 
minds that we had to leave the flat or 
starve; the fact was Jim had only 
stayed as long as he had on Kit's ac- 
count. He hated to go and leave her, 
and so did I for his sake, but go we 
must, so one night after supper we 
packed our stuff and got all ready for 
an early start next morning; and then 
Jim went off to say good-by to Kit, 
and I went down to Ledger's to say 
good-by to the boys. I found old 
Rowan there of course; he was half 
asleep in a chair near the stove, and 
Ledger was dealing bank. I made a 
couple of plays just for the good of the 
house, told the boys we were off come 
morning, stood a round of drinks and 
went back to camp and turned in. 

Jim did not come back for some time 
after, and I could see by his face that 



he was mightily pleased at something, 
and I could easily guess what it was. 
In the morning, bright and early, we 
were off. It was the 25th of Septem- 
ber; I remember the date as though 
it were but yesterday; we were going 
to prospect up a little creek that Jim 
had located one day a few miles above 
the flat. This creek emptied into the 
Trinity, but it was such a narrow, 
rocky little stream where it emptied, 
that unless it widened out higher up 
there wasn't much show for color 
even. However, we pushed our way up 
that creek for two or three days of as 
hard traveling as I ever did. Finally 
one day, just as we had made our way 
through a particularly tough mile or 
so, we struck the prettiest little flat 
any one ever saw. The mountains 
seemed to rise up straight and wall it 
in all around, and I don't believe any 
white man ever set foot in it before; 
it was about a hundred feet across and 
as many yards long, and the stream 
wasn't more than twenty feet wide, 
and very shallow, for there hadn't been 
any rain yet. We knew the gold must 
be there. We were dead tired that 
night, but we couldn't sleep, or eat 
even, until we had washed a pan or 
so of dirt just to see the color of the 
stuff. Jim said it reminded him of 
Kit's hair, and we saw from the first 
panning that we had struck it. Old 
Jim danced around me and yelled until 
the walls of the caiion fairly rang, and 
had a small drink out of our precious 
little jug, and had supper, and turned 
in to dream of all sorts of good things 

To make a short yarn of it, we mined 
there until the first of December, and 
then Jim says to me one night after 
supper: "Partner, I'm going to make 
a final clean up and 'divy' to-night. I 
promised Kit I'd look her up and get 
married by Christmas, and I reckon I 
must rustle if I'm going to keep my 
word. ' ' Of course I assented. I always 
did when Jim proposed anything, 
someway or another, and said as long 
as he was going down the river I'd go 
along and see him through. So we got 

out the buckskin sack and weighed out 
the stuff, and found that we had close 
on to $20,000 apiece in dust and nug- 
gets. I tell you we felt good. 

Jim said we'd go down to the Flat, 
get Kit, look up a parson or a justice, 
or somebody that could marry 'em, 
get spliced, and then go down to Sacra- 
mento, buy that ranch, and live like 
white men once more. So next morn- 
ing we started for Buller's. We got 
there safe enough, but the only soul on 
the location was a Chinaman, and of 
course he didn't know anything about 
anybody; he was making a living out 
of a deserted claim, and that was all 
he cared about. Jim was knocked 
cold; he didn't know what to do next 
or where to go; Kit had disappeared 
as though the ground had opened and 
swallowed her, and where was he to 
look for her ? We talked the matter 
over and over again that night, as we 
sat, after supper, in one of the aban- 
doned cabins, and could come to no 
conclusion. We sat smoking for a hall 
hour or so, when suddenly Jim jumped 
to his feet and says: "Partner, we'll 
go to 'Frisco and find Ivedger. I'll 
warrant he'll know where old Rowan 
is, and, unless I'm mightily mistaken, 
where Kit is, too." " I go where you 
do, Jim," was all I said, and we turned 
in then, and next morning, before sun 
up, were off for the bay. 

We got into 'Frisco on the 20th of 
December ; there had been lots of rain 
in the mountains, and all the creeks 
were rivers, and all the rivers lakes, 
and we had to go a mighty long way 
round, but we got there just the same, 
and on a Monday afternoon we two 
flung our packs down in Frenchy's 
lodging-house, near the Plaza, got 
something to eat and had a jaw with 
the boys, and along about six o'clock 
Jim came to me and said he had 
lycdger located and we'd go see him 
and find out what he had to say. "I'm 
going to make him tell me everything 
he knows about Kit," said Jim, "and 
you better have your gun handy, part- 
ner, for you might need it." Jim was 
always jealous of Ivedger, though I 



never could see why, for Kit never 
favored the man ; she would talk and 
laugh with him if they happened 
to meet, and sometimes he would make 
her little presents, but any one could 
see that Kit cared nothing for any one 
save Jim; and although Ledger was a 
scamp he wasn't a scoundrel, but then 
Jim was dead in love with Kit and 
would have been jealous of a China- 
man if she'd smile at him. 

I followed Jim out into the street ; 
it was pitch dark and raining in sheets, 
and .the mud was knee deep. Jim led 
the way across the Plaza onto Kearny 
Street with me at his heels. The only 
lights were those in the saloons and 
stores and gambling-houses. Men 
were elbowing and pushing their way 
good naturedly through the mud in 
and out of the doors of the different 
drinking-places, until it seemed to me 
that every man on the Coast must be 
in 'Frisco for Christmas. At last Jim 
stopped in front of a place called the 
" Ivone Star;" it was a big drinking- 
saloon with a gambling outfit in the 
rear and a free-and-easy dance-house 
upstairs. Jim caught my wrist in his 
hand and fairly hissed in my ear as 
he nodded at the lighted windows up- 
stairs; "Partner, if Kit's up there, I'll 

fill that Ledger's hide so 

full of holes it won't hold blood," and 
I knew that he meant it, too. ' ' Come 
on," he said, and I followed. He 
pushed through the crowded barroom, 
merely glancing at the men behind 
the counter, but Ledger wasn't there. 
Pushing open the swinging doors the 
gambling-hell was before us ; there 
were seven or eight faro games run- 
ning, and several Spanish monte deal- 
ers were scattered around at different 
tables, and sure, at the bank, side of 
the most crowded faro table, sat our 
man, dealing. 

As soon as Jim saw him he started 
for him, but I put my hand on his arm 
and said: "Steady, Jim, take it easy, 
old man; you can't bluff him (for I 
knew Ledger had plenty of pluck); 
speak to him softly and let's find out 
something if we can." So v/e strolled 

up to the layout and stood overlook- 
ing the game for a moment or two 
before Ledger caught sight of us; 
when he did, he called out, "Why, 
Pardee and Pard (they always coupled 
Jim and me that way at BuUer's), 
where have you dropped from.'' He 
answered pleasantly enough and gave 
him the time o' day, and then we made 
a play or two. Presently Ledger fin- 
ished the deal, and calling another 
dealer to take his place he came 
around to us and asked us to go into 
his private room and have a drmk and 
a talk, and we did, and after we had 
had a drink Ledger turned round on 
Jim and said, ' ' See here, Pardee, you're 
down here looking for Kit;" and as 
Jim started to deny it he kept right on 
and said, " No use denying it, for I 
know all that was between you and 
Kit." Jim stared at him, too sur- 
prised to speak for a moment, and 
then said, "Well, if you know that 
much, you must know I am looking 
for her, but how did you know she 

had left the flat? and by Ledger," 

he went on, "I'm going to find her 
too, and you might as well tell me, 
first as last, where she is." "Jim," 
said Ledger, and he laid his hand on 
his shoulder, "I don't know where 
she is ; if I did I'd tell you, for I know 
Kit loves you, and as long as I haven't 
a chance myself I'd sooner see her 
your wife than any other man's I know, 
and I'll help you find her with the last 
dollar I've got and the last shot in my 
gun." He looked Jim straight in the 
eyes as he said this, and Jim looked 
him back again, and, after a moment's 
silence, Jim put out his hand and 
said, " I believe you're true this time, 
anyway. Ledger, and I'll trust you; 
shake hands on it with me and my 
'pard,' and we'll find Kit if she's on 
top of earth." We all shook hands 
then and had another bottle of fizz, 
and over it Ledger told us how, soon 
after we left BuUer's, old Rowan came 
to him and said he was going off on a 
prospect to look up an old claim he 
knew of, and he wanted some one to 
take care of Kit while he was away, 



and if he (Ledger) would give him 
five hundred he could have her and 
welcome. Jim nearly had a fit when 
he heard this, but quieted down, and 
Ledger went on to tell how he had 
gone to Kit and told her that he loved 
her (" and I did and do love her yet," 
he said, and I could see from his eyes 
and voice that he meant what he said), 
and asked her to marry him, but Kit 
told him she was going to marry Jim 
come Christmas, and that she loved 
Jim and no one else. Ledger told old 
Rowan Kit's answer, and the old brute 
raved and cursed and swore that she 
should never marry Jim; he had never 
forgotten the gentle pounding he had 
had from him for licking Kit when he 
was drunk one night, and next day 
Buller's found itself less in numbers 
by two, and old Rowan and Kit were 
gone. Ledger only stayed there long 
enough to close up his place after that, 
for he said he had only been staying 
there on account of Kit, and then made 
his way to 'Frisco. He had heard of 
Rowan since he had come to the bay. 
The old man had been there, and Kit 
was with him; but no one had seen 
either of them for many weeks. Led- 
ger said, and he had been too busy to 
look for Kit before; but now he had 
a man whom he could trust around 
the place to look after things, and said 
he would go halves with Jim in money, 
time and everything else it cost to find 
her; for he said to Jim and me that 
night that though he was no saint yet 
he knew a good woman when he saw 
her, and he not only knew poor little 
Kit was good, but (and here there were 
tears in his voice, and his eyes, too, and 
when a man can't talk except in that 
way about a girl you can gamble he 
loves her) he loved her beside, and he 
would go through anything to see her 
safe in Jim's arms. We all shook hands 
again at this; and then Jim and I said 
good-night to Ledger, made our way 
back to Frenchj^'s and turned in. 

Things ran along after that arrange- 
ment for a week, and Jim, Ledger and 
I had been in every place in 'Frisco 
where we thought Rowan might have 

put Kit (and a good-looking girl was 
worth a whole lot of money here in 
those days;, but we could find no trace 
of her and had begun to make up our 
minds that the old man had taken her 
with him wherever he had gone. Jim 
had grown silent and morose, and to 
my surprise had taken a distrust to 
Ledger. I had grown to like Ledger 
very thoroughly since I had known 
him better. He was generous and 
good tempered to a fault, slow to quar- 
rel, and as brave a man as ever stepped. 
I reasoned with Jim, but could nat ar- 
gue the idea out of his mind that 
Ledger knew where his Kit was and 
was keeping him from her. Ledger 
noticed it too, and spoke to me about 
it, and I agreed with him that it 
was so; but he made excuses for Jim 
and said that it was only natural, and 
if he were in Jim's place he would be 
so too. It had rained all day long. 
Christmas eve the wind blew from all 
the points of the compass at once, and 
about five in the afternoon Jim gave 
up his search. He had been on the 
keen jump for the past four days; and 
he had not eaten or slept hardly dur- 
ing that time; besides he had been 
drinking more than usual. I suppose 
his grief and disappointment were 
more than he could bear; and alto- 
gether he was in a very moody, irri- 
table condition when we parted at the 
Plaza, he to go to Frenchy's and I to go 
to Ledger's. ' ' You'llfind me in my bunk 
when you come back," he called after 
me as I was making my way across the 
street. When I got to Ledger's I found 
him just going out to supper, and I 
went with him; we talked the matter 
over as we eat, and came to the conclu- 
sion that Rowan must have gone away 
from 'Frisco and taken Kit with him. 
After supper I wanted to go out and 
buy some toj'^s and other things for the 
kids of an old pal of mine who was dead 
and whose widow was taking in wash- 
ing to keep the young ones together. 
Ledger volunteered to come along, so 
together we made our wa)- through the 
crowded streets thronged with miners, 
gamblers and adventurers from every 



country under the sun. It was a gay, 
careless crowd enough, and you could 
hear the click of the roulette wheel and 
the cries of the monte dealers from al- 
most every door as it swung open to 
the men coming and going. The store 
we were making for was kept by a Jew 
named Isaacs, and stood on Kearny 
Street near the Plaza. When we got 
there the place was crowded, and atone 
side of the store an auction was going 
on of unredeemed pledges; for Isaacs 
carried on a pawnbroker's business in 
addition to his store, and lent money 
on anything from a miner's pick and 
gold pan to a gambler's diamonds. 
Ledger and I had finished our pur- 
chasing and turned to leave when our 
attention was attracted to the auction- 
eer's stand by a laugh from the crowd, 
and to our surprise we saw a woman 
closely veiled and cloaked standing at 
his side, and he was informing the 
crowd that she was the next pledge to 
be sold. I could hardly believe my eyes 
or ears, but there she stood; and the 
auctioneer went on to descant on her 
beauty of face and form. I thought 
she was, of course, some woman of the 
town who had pledged her jewels or 
valuables of some kind with Isaacs 
and tried this means of raising the 
money to redeem them in preference to 
having them sold. The Jew on the 
stand had just finished his remarks to 
the crowd on the girl's dancing and 
singing, and some brute in the audi- 
ence had shouted to him to unveil the 
girl and let us hear her sing, when I 
caught sight of a Frenchman who ran 
one of the most notorious resorts in the 
city standing near the stand. He must 
be there to bid on the girl, I knew, and 
if she fell into his hands her life would 
be a perfect hell. He would pay a big 
price for her, for a woman in those 
days was a gold mine in 'Frisco; and 
many a man who is to-day a respected 
member of society made his money out 
of them. I no sooner saw the French- 
man than I made up my mind to meas- 
ure my sack against his, and if mine 
was the longest the girl should go free, 
when Ledger's hand fell on my shoul- 

der and he muttered in my ear: " Pard, 
do you see that man there? " pointing 

to the fellow I have spoken of. ' * By 

I'll bay that poor soul's freedom and 
save her from his clutches if it costs 
me my last ounce." "I'll go you 
halves, Ledger," I answered, and if we 
haven't enough between us I know 
Jim will help us out for the sake of the 
little girl we are looking for." 

The bidding had begun by this time, 
and was opened by a thousand-dollar 
bid by a capper for the shop. A big, 
good-natured, half-drunken Irishman 
raised it five hundied just to show his 
regard for the sex in general; and after 
a few scattering bids it reached five 
thousand, the last bidder being the 
Frenchman. Ledger waited a moment 
to see if any one would raise the last 
bid, and then went a thousand harder; 
the Frenchman bid five hundred more; 
I raised him a thousand. By this time 
the crowd had become interested and 
had begun to chaff the Frenchman, and 
he went me a thousand more only to be 
met by another thousand from Ledger. 
The crowd cheered at this last bid, and 
our rival, evidently nettled at the oppo- 
sition he was meeting with, raised Led- 
ger five thousand dollars with a trium- 
phant ring in his voice that seemed to 
say, beat that if you dare. Ledger 
waited just a second until the surprise 
at the size of the last bid had subsided, 
and then quietly remarked, " ten thou- 
sand more." At this the audience fairly 
yelled, and our Frenchman swore hard 
in his own language and left the place 
amid the jeers of the crowd. Ledger 
and I made our way to a private room 
to settle about the payment of the 
money. I was ahead, and as I stepped 
into the room there was a cry, a rustle 
of skirts, and Kit's arms were around 
my neck, and Kit was laughing and 
crying both at once and raining kisses 
all over my rough, bearded face, and 
calling me dear, dear, dearest old pard, 
and demanding to be taken to Jim all 
in one breath. 

I was simply paralyzed with sur 
prise, and as for Ledger he was 
dumb. "How on earth did you get 



here, Kit?" at last I found my tongue 
to ask, and then as well as she could 
in her excitement she explained how 
old Rowan had brought her to 'Frisco, 
and after he had tried every means he 
could think of to raise money without 
success he had pawned her to Isaacs, 
and he had loaned him the money he 
needed for his scheme, whatever it 
was. Isaacs had kept Kit locked up in 
the rooms over the store, never allow- 
ing her to go out unattended, and then 
always in the evening and closely 
veiled and cloaked. The night before 
the auction the Frenchman was 
brought in and introduced to her, and 
Isaacs had tried to persuade her to go 
away with him then, but Kit refused 
and insisted on the contract being car- 
ried out to the letter, and so was auc- 
tioned. She had not recognized either 
Ledger or me in her excitement and 
through her thick veil, but she knew 
Ledger's voice when he made the last 
bid, and turning to look for him she 
saw me and thought we must have 
known whom we were bidding for, 
and she was awfully disappointed to 
find we did not, but inisted that Jim 
would have, had he been there. Ledger 
being well known in 'Frisco arranged 
for the payment of the money, and 
getting Kit's poor little bundle to- 
gether we started for his place where, 
lie said, Kit could stay; and I volun- 
teered to get my widow to come down 
and stay with her and take care of her. 
We sent out for some supper, and over 
it we decided not to let Jim know any- 
thing about the affair until the next 
•night, when we were all to dine to- 
gether at Ledger's and give hini a good 
old-fashioned surprise, and Kit for a 
Christmas present. Ledger was to have 
a parson on hand to do the marrying, 
and the widow was to look after Kit's 
wardrobe and have her a white dress 
ready to be married in. Ledger and I 
left the widow and Kit deep in the 
discussion of ways and means; they 
bad plenty of money and were to 
spare no expense. I went home to 
our lodgings and found poor Jim in 
«ticb a state of the blues and nearly 

wild from drink and loss of sleep that 
it was on the tip of my tongue to tell 
him everything, but I couldnt bear to 
spoil our plans. I gave him Ledger's 
invitation to dine with him, but the 
poor old chap wanted to refuse, and I 
had to use all my powers of persuasion 
to induce him to promise to come. At 
last he did, and then we turned in, but 
Jim just lay in his bunk and tossed 
around all night thinking of Kit. 
Next morning we started out again 
and made a round of all the places in 
town in which women were em- 
ployed, and every time we came 
out of one of them Jim would say, 
" Pard, old man, I'd sooner kill my 
poor little Kit with my own hand 
than find her in one of those places, 

and by , I'dkillheranyway if I did 

find her in one, but I'd kill the man who 
put her there first," and so the day 
passed. We hadn't seen Ledger all 
day, and about five o'clock Jim said, 
" Well, we might as well be going up 
to Ledger's now if we're going to feed 
there." So we started up Kearny 
Street to Ledger's, and as we came 
opposite the house Jim happened to 
glance across at the upper windows. 
There were lights in the rooms, both 
in the dancing-rooms and in Ledger's 
own private apartments, and there in 
the latter stood Kit all dressed in 
white. She looked like an angel to 
my eyes as she bent over a great 
basket of flowers that stood on a cen- 
ter-table. Jim never said a word. He 
just stood for a second or so as if dazed; 
then I heard him mutter to himself, 
" the man first, the man first," and be- 
fore I could stay him he was dashing 
across the street, making for Ledger's. 
I was close behind him, yelling to him 
to stop and let me explain, but he 
never heard me. He dashed through 
the bar and into the gambling room, 
and there at a table at the upper end 
of the room sat Ledger, dealing. Jim 
had his gun out by this time, and 
every one made way for him. Ledger 
saw him, and knew by his eyes 
what was coming. But he never 
flinched. He sat there pale and still 



as a statue, with a half smile on his 
lips, and never made a move save to 
finish the turn and call the cards as 
they slipped out of the box. Jim 
covered him, looking him straight in 
the eyes, and fired before a man could 
stop him; and lycdger went down, and 
the room was in confusion. Some 
yelled, "lynch him!" but there Jim 
stood, the smoking weapon in his 
hand, glaring around like a madman, 
with a look in his face that instinctively 
made the crowd fall back. In a sec- 
ond I reached him and had explained, 
and if ever a strong man weakened 
he did, and with a leap he pushed the 
men aside who were picking Ledger 
up, and had him in his arms. " For 
God's sake, old man," he said, " sa)'- 
you're not dead! I didn't understand. 
I didn't know." " It's all right, Jim," 
gasped lycdger faintly, "she's all 
right," and then he fainted dead 
away. Jim lifted him like a baby 
and carried him through the crowd 
and up the stairs into his room. I 
left him with the doctor that had been 
sent for, and in a few minutes I went 
into Kit's room to tell Jim he was 
only wounded. There he was, kneel- 
ing by her side, his rough head in her 
lap, broken down in the very time of 
his greatest joy. But the word I 
brought made another man of him, 
and it wasn't long before Jim went to 
him, and what they said, — well, Jim 

nor lycdger never mentioned it. It 
was Christmas evening but Ledger, 
with a bad wound, did not forget it, 
and insisted that everything should 
go on as he he had planned it, and 
his word went that night, you may 

The parson arrived' on time and 
stood near the bed. Jim and Kit stood 
in front of him with the widow and 
me for maid of honor and best man. 
Ledger gave the bride away, and every 
last man in the crowd who could jam 
himself into the room solemnly kissed 
Kit and passed out, and as he went he 
dropped a sack of dust or a couple of 
nuggets into a hat that some one had 
placed at the door, and it made a 
mighty good bank-roll when it was 
turned into coin. 

And then we had dinner. Ledger 
was. the life of the outfit. We moved 
the table into his room, and although 
he didn't eat anything the doctor al- 
lowed him a glass of champagne to 
drink the bride and groom in, and he 
made a speech and I made one too, and 
Jim tried to make one and broke down 
and cried, and Kit wiped his eyes with 
her handkerchief, and we had a very 
merry Christmas. Ledger got well 
and is alive to-day, for I met him last 
week j ust in front of where the gamb- 
ling-house stood on Kearny Street, 
and that is how it came into my mind 
to tell this story. 


By Lewis A. Groff. 

THE best disposition of the remain- 
der of the public domain is a prob- 
lem which merits the attention it 
is receiving from the thinking people 
of the West. The interests of the Gen- 
eral Government, of the States and Ter- 
ritories within which the lands lie, and 
of the prospective settler, must all be 
considered in the solution of this prob- 

It would have been impossible to 
fulfill the duties of the office of Land 
Commissioner without forming some 
opinions upon this subject; and the 
exceptional opportunities for studying 
the inner workings of our present sys- 
tem of land laws under which these 
opinions grew into convictions must 
give them whatever claim they may 
have upon the reader's attention. 

Although nearly 19,000,000 acres — 
a body of land rivaling in area the 
combined States of New Hampshire, 
Rhode Island, Massachusetts, Connec- 
ticut and New Jersey — were patented 
to entrymen under the settlement laws 
of the Government for the fiscal year 
ended June 30, 1890,* there remained 
at that time, according to the best esti- 
mate the General Land Office could 
make, 586,216,861 acres of unsettled 
public lands within what are known as 
the land States and Territories. This 
estimate excluded the Cherokee strip, 
containing 8,004,644 acres, as well as 
other lands owned or claimed by In- 
dians in Indian Territory west of the 
96th degree of longitude. It also ex- 
cluded Alaska, with its area of 369, 529,- 
600 acres, of which not to exceed 1,000 
had been entered under the mineral laws 
in pursuance of Act of Congress, March 
17, 1884. The generalland laws have 
not been extended to Alaska. Enough 
is not yet known about the climate, 

* When this paper was written, the report of the 
Land Office for the fiscal year ended June 30, 1891, 
had not been published. 

soil or productions of that wonderful 
country to justify either putting its 
immense area into the same category 
with other public lands, or formulating 
a new system in regard to it. It is 
therefore only with that portion of the 
public domain which lies within the 
land States and Territories that I will 
attempt to deal. 

The above total of 586,216,861 acres 
lies west of the looth meridian, with 
the exception of about 26,000,000 
acres. Of these at least 10,000,000 
are swamp and unfit for settlement 
until reclaimed. About 7,000,000 more 
are heavily timbered, wet, and unsuit- 
able for farming. The balance is largely 
prairie, situated in Minnesota, and 
those portions of the Dakotas, Nebras- 
ka, Kansas and Oklahoma lying east 
of the looth meridian. There are also 
small tracts distributed throughout the 
other land States. 

The 560,216,861 acres lying west of 
the 1 00th meridian, excepting those 
portions situated in Northern Califor- 
nia west of the Sierra Nevada Range, 
and in Oregon and Washington west 
of the Cascades, are within what is 
known as the arid country. Save a 
few valleys where rain falls, and oth- 
ers with natural sub-irrigation, this 
vast area is unfit for agriculture un- 
less reclaimed. In many places recla- 
mation is impossible because water 
cannot, be obtained. Some districts 
are so hopelessly sterile that irrigation, 
if it were practicable, would be useless. 
Large tracts are mountainous and of 
no value save for their timber, or as 
minerals are discovered in them. 

In California, Nevada, Oregon and 
Washington large districts of the fin- 
est timber lands on the continent are 
at present being disposed of under the 
Timber and Stone Act of June 3, 1878, 
which Act applies only to lands situate 
in the above-named States. This law 



limits the quantity of land which may- 
be acquired under it by one person or 
association of persons to i6o acres at 
$2.50 an acre ; requires the entrj^man 
to make affidavit that he has made no 
prior application under the Act ; that 
he is a citizen of the United States, or 
has declared his intention of becoming 
a citizen ; that he designate, by legal 
subdivision, the tract he desires to pur- 
chase, setting forth that it is chiefly 
valuable for timber or stone, and unfit 
for cultivation if the timber were re- 
moved ; that it is uninhabited and 
contains no mining or other improve- 
ments ; that he beHeves it to contain 
no valuable mineral deposits ; that he 
does not apply to purchase the same 
on speculation, but for his own ex- 
clusive use and benefit ; and that he 
has not made any agreement or con- 
tract by which the title he may acquire 
from the United States shall inure to 
any person except himself. 

It is further provided that any per- 
son swearing falsely to such afiidavit 
shall be guilty of perjury ; that he 
shall forfeit the money paid for the 
land ; and all conveyances of the land 
shall become null and void as against 
the United States. It is made the duty 
of Registers and Receivers to read this 
afiidavit to the applicant, or to cause 
it to be read to him in their presence, 
before the applicant swears to the 
same or attaches his signature thereto. 
Other safeguards are prescribed by the 
General Land Office to prevent fraud- 
ulent or procured entries under this 

It is evident that Congress intended 
this Act to answer a wise and benefi- 
cent purpose. It was undoubtedly 
thought that it might do for the fron- 
tier lumberman what the homestead 
law had done for the frontier agricul- 
turist. It has not only failed of 
accomplishing this object, but has cor- 
rupted whole communities, where as- 
sociations have been formed for the 
purpose of making fraudulent entries 
thereunder. Despite every effort of 
the Land Office and of the Depart- 
ment of Justice to prevent it, and to 

punish offenders, these organizations 
continue to practice their nefarious 
methods. The result is that immense 
areas of these valuable timber lands, 
— which it was intended should be 
distributed in small bodies to indi- 
vidual owners, — through the exercise 
of wholesale perjury and fraud, have 
passed into the hands of rich and 
powerful corporations. This law ought 
to be repealed ; and until the Presi- 
dent has made the forest reserves con- 
templated by Act of Congress, March 
3, 1 89 1, no further disposition of tim- 
ber lands should be undertaken. 
These reserves completed, Congress 
might pass a law providing for the 
appraisement and sale of all lands 
chiefly valuable for timber. It may 
be urged that our lumber supply will 
soon be exhausted if these lands are 
sold without reservation. But private 
owners can, and will, manage the tim- 
ber more economically than does the 
Government, and save to the country 
much that under a continuance of the 
present system would be destroyed. 
No one takes care of public forests. 
Every one not withheld by conscien- 
tious scruples poaches upon them. 
Timber depredators take only the best 
parts of the best trees, leaving im- 
mense quantities awaiting the touch 
of the hunters' match. Fire consumes 
annually more than the market. It is 
impossible for the Land Office to pre- 
vent either these depredations or this 
destruction. Private owners, in guard- 
ing their own interests, would at the 
same time secure those of the public. 
The law authorizing the sale of timber 
lands should also provide that neither 
timber nor lumber shall be exported, 
thereby preserving and cheapening 
lumber for home consumers. 

The timber lands disposed of, there 
will remain only the arid and mineral 
lands, a few bodies of swamp land, 
and the small agricultural tracts lying 
east of the looth meridian. All 
swamp lands belonging to the States 
under existing grants might be speed- 
ih' patented, and any remaining 
granted to the States wherein situated, 



on condition that they be reclaimed 
within a reasonable time by the States 
or their grantees. The small bodies of 
agricultural land lying east of the 
looth meridian might also, if not en- 
tered under the homestead law within 
a given time, be granted to the States 
in which they lie. A similar disposi- 
tion might be made of the arid and 
mineral lands under proper restric- 
tions as to their disposal and develop- 
ment, and, in the case of arid lands, 
their reclamation. When the remain- 
ing Territories have been admitted to 
statehood, the lands within their bor- 
ders could be granted to them on the 
same conditions. 

Of course, many objections may be 
urged against these suggestions, but 
the precedents for the course of action 
outlined are already established. 
Swamp lands have been liberally 
granted by Congress to several of the 
States. Directly or indirectly, im- 
mense grants have also been made 
them for canals, railroads and other 
internal improvements. The seven- 
teen States formed from the territory 
of the original thirteen colonies ad- 
ministered their own land system and 
received the revenue derived there- 
from. Texas does the same to-day. 

Furthermore, since the enactment of 
the homestead law, it has been the 
policy of Congress to dispose of pub- 
lic lands with a view to the settlement 
and upbuilding of States, and the 
making of taxable property, rather 
than for direct revenue; and, if this 
object could be more efficiently pro- 
moted by the States themselves, the 
relinquishment of the small income 
received by the nation under the pres- 
ent system ought not to be an ob- 
stacle to the change. Or if judged 
advisable it might be provided that 
the States, as fast as they dispose of 
lands, shall pay into the national 
treasury a sum per acre equal to the 
net price the Government now re- 

I repeat the statement made in the 
beginning of this paper, that, in the 
solution of this public-lands problem. 

the interests of the General Govern- 
ment, of the States and Territories 
within which the lands lie, and of the 
prospective settler, must all be con- 
sidered. Take first the case of the 
States. This is a vast country. No 
general law is broad, enough to cover 
such diverse cases as may arise, say 
in Florida, Wyoming and California. 
The lyCgislatures of the several States 
can best determine by what methods 
their arid and swamp lands can be re- 
claimed, their mineral lands developed, 
their agricultural lands made to sup- 
port a teeming and happy popula- 
tion; and how, in accordance with 
these ends, to condition their disposal. 
Congress is too far off, — its knowledge 
too abstract. It is overburdened be- 
sides. The lyand Office itself sits like 
an incubus upon its breast. No one 
who has not frequented the sessions of 
our national assembly or examined the 
Congressional Record can have any 
idea how much time land legislation 
consumes, or how unsatisfactoril}^ it 
is performed. Precisely here appears 
the great benefit of the suggested 
change to the General Government. 
Relieved of this load, Congress could 
devote the time now spent on land 
matters to weightier questions whose 
consideration cannot be relegated to the 
States, and its efficiency would be in- 
calculably increased. To settlers it 
is plain that the new order of things 
would be a boon. They could trans- 
act their business through an of- 
fice within the confines of their own 
State instead of one hundreds or 
thousands of miles away, one bur- 
dened besides with the business of 
many other States. The "law's de- 
lay ' ' under the present system works 
much hardship and injustice. No 
doubt it also bears its share in the en- 
couragement of malpractices. With 
prompter decisions would probably 
come a reduction in frauds, claim- 
jumping and the like, thus promoting 
public morals as well as the security 
of honest settlers. Again, the money 
for lands would be kept at home 
and redistributed there, — not a small 



advantage to a new and struggling 
commonwealth. Is it feared that the 
supersedure of the present order of 
things would cause disorganization 
and distress ? No violent change will be 
necessar3^ Several years would be 
required to bring up the arrears of 

work in the (General Land Office. 
The older employes would probably 
find occupation there for the balance 
of their lives. The younger ones, with 
their experience, could command posi- 
tions in the State offices that must be 


By J. W. Wood. 

ITTITHIN these covers, homely tho' some be, 
V\ Life's kaleidoscope is writ in varying stage, — 
The tragedies of war and poets' melody, 

The mimicr}^ of love, philosophy of sage. 
Here warrior tells his deeds of valor o'er, 

With gallant knight who poised his lance for fame; 
The antiquary fraught with mystic lore, 

The pensive lover sighing forth his flame, 
'Tis here most strange and pleasant company; — 

The sparkling wit, the weirdly muttering crone, 
A rondeau neat, a dismal threnod3^ 

Compose this mimic world in calf-bound tome. 

Here let me muse in silent reverie 

Amidst these mystic scenes of by-gone age, 
And with the aeons past and aeons yet to be 

Weave witcheries for yet unlettered page. 


A Lady's Journal. 

[The history of the late war has been well described in various publications, but that portion 
relating to the famous Dry Tortugas prison, where thousands of men were kept during the war, 
and where those connected with the assassination of President Lincoln were confined, has never 
been described, yet the events are now of great historical value. The island upon which the great 
prison was established was a sand bank comprising but thirteen acres, — one of the last of the keys 
representing the end of the great Florida reef. For seven or eight years a lady, the wife of one of 
the surgeons, lived in this isolated spot and viewed all the incidents from the appearance of the 
first war cloud until the declaration of peace. The following chapters were not written or intended 
for publication, the events being jotted down simply for friends in the North; and The Cal- 
IFORNIAN has been enabled to give them to the public in a series of chapters, believing that many 
are of historical interest and value, and also as showing the singular life of a lady in one of ihe most 
out-of-the-way spots in this country. Future chapters will be illustrated with views of the great 
prison, the largest stone fort on the western continent. — Editor.] 

THE great progress in modern scien- 
tific warfare within the last quarter 
of a century has made fort-build- 
ing to our Engineer Corps a difficult 
problem. Discoveries in destructive 
power so keep pace with those of resist- 
ance that for humanity's sake we can 
but hope that the time may not be far 
distant when "They shall beat their 
swords into plowshares, and their 
spears into pruning-hooks ; nation 
shall not lift up sword against nation, 
neither shall they learn war anymore," 
and that just and righteous arbitration 
will be the method of tranquilizing all 
national disturbances. 

Among our coast defenses thirty-five 
or forty years ago Key West and Tor- 
tugas, Florida, were considered stations 
of sufficient importance for the estab- 
lishment of elaborate fortifications. 

They were the extreme points reach- 
ing out toward the Spanish posses- 
sions. In any case they would be 
useful as depots of supply for our 
navy ; and a fort on one of the keys 
farthest from the mainland would pre- 
vent its occupation by a foreign force. 

About the year 1847 Fort Jefferson 
was commenced under the charge of 
Captain Wright of the United States 
Engineer Corps, and in 1859 had 
assumed a formidable appearance, as 
it rose, apparently, directly from the 

sea to a height of nearly sixty feet, 
and after the towers at each bastion 
were completed presented a castel- 
lated and picturesque appearance. 

This great work gave employment 
to some two or three hundred work- 
men, mostly slaves, whose masters 
lived in Key West, sixty miles away. 
So large a force naturally necessitated 
a resident physician. Doctor White - 
hurst, who had held the appointment 
for several years, resigned in the sum- 
mer of this year. 

Professor Agassiz had vijited Tor- 
tugas the preceding winter, returning 
very enthusiastic over the coral and 
other marine forms ; and those in 
authority had consented that the suc- 
ceeding physician should be chosen 
with reference to biological science. 

Professor Baird of the Smithsonian 
Institution knowing all this and also 
that my husband combined both qual- 
ities of surgeon and naturalist, it was 
through this influence that the posi- 
tion was tendered him and accepted in 
the autumn of 1859. 

It seems strange to refer to letters 
that say the trip from New York to 
Washington was the most tiresome 
part of the journey, taking from six 
o'clock at night until six the next 
morning, with so many changes that 
the attempt to sleep was only an 


aggravation; — when now the comforts 
and luxury in traveling simply de- 
pend upon the length of one's purse. 

From there to Charleston the trip 
was slow but sure, — literally for the 
accommodation of every one. I le- 
member the train stoppnig one day in 
the woods without any apparent cause. 
After a while people began to question 
the reason of the delay, when an old 
couple were seen coming through the 
woods putting on their wraps as they 
came. When they were assisted 
aboard, the train started on as leisurely 
as though time was of little value; 
we had evidently left hurry and bustle 

While in Charleston, although it 
impressed us as having a general air 
of dilapidation, — its moldy walls, un- 
even sidewalks, and a want of thrift 
even in the better part of the city, — yet 
with it all, we felt that the people 
found more enjoyment in life than we 
in the North wiih all our hurry and 

Taking the Isabel, the Havana 
steamer, we reached Key West in the 
evening a few days later, finding the 
mail schooner Ti?/'/?^^^^ waiting to con- 
vey us to Fort Jefferson, or Tortugas ; 
so we saw nothing of the town, only as 
we steamed into the wharf; yet it gave 
us a most pleasant impression, — the 
lights glimmering through the cocoa- 
nut trees, the white sand, glimpses 
of the houses half hidden in the 
foliage, and the brilliant moonlight 
throwing a fairy-like glamor over all, 
making a picture never to be forgot- 

One night took us to Fort Jefferson, 
that in time became known as the 
famous Dry Tortugas; and our first 
view in the early morning as we sailed 
in through the winding channel was 
surely suggestive of a prison. Over 
the top of the fort we caught sight of 
trees and the roof of a building with a 
tall, white lighthouse towering over 
all. The little keys that we had 
passed, some pure white, others with 
a few trees and shrubs, took away 
something of the isolated feeling. 

Three miles away, stretched out the 
largest of all these islands except the 
one on which the fort was built, on 
which was another larger lighthouse. 
The exterior of the fort was bare and 
repulsive, the interior offering a decided 

Here were trees of the deep green 
belonging to tropical vegetation, so 
restful to the eye in the glaring sun ; 
and as the walls inclosed about thirteen 
acres, and water could not be seen, I 
instinctively lost the feeling of being 
so far from the mainland. 

The walk, hard as cement and white 
as snow, partly shaded by the ever- 
green trees, led past the lighthouse 
and cottage of the keeper to the oppo- 
site side of the fort, where we were 
taken into a large, cool and pleasant 
house, and given a warm welcome by 
Captain Woodbury and his charming 
wife and family, who soon made us 
feel that a home does not depend upon 
locality, but in the hearts of people. 

It had been very difficult in our hur- 
ried departure from home to learn just 
what was necessary for living in such 
an out-of-the-way place; and, as we 
only looked forward to a stay of one 
winter, we took nothing for house- 
keeping purposes, thinking we should 
probably board at some hotel perhaps — 
suggestive of the idea we had of the 
Dry Tortugas. 

We soon concluded that, however 
primitive it might be, a home of our 
own would be preferable, so went 
shopping at the one store outside 
the walls. The winds had blown up 
sand until there was an- acre perhaps 
stretched along the moat outside of 
the seawall ; and on this atom of land 
was the store, mess-hall for the work- 
men, carpenter-shop and a long buil- 
ding where the men slept, and tarther 
along on the edge of the sand stood 
the Engineer Hospital, where it was 
always cool and breezy. 

The store was for the accommodation 
of the men, and contained a medley of 
things. Here we bought a stove and 
enough of the necessities to start our 
primitive housekeeping. 



We had some tables made by the 
island carpenter, a bedstead, also a 
rocking-chair, that must be in exist- 
ence now judging from its strength 
and durability. There was always a 
mystery about its rocking power, which 
my kindly feeling for the carpenter pre- 
vented questioning. It was not a frisky 
piece of furniture that made one feel in 
danger of tipping over, but tall, staid 
and dignified, requiring some effort 
to tilt it. The length of the rockers sug- 
gested the long swing of a hammock, 
so that one started off with anticipa- 
tions of a restful enjoyment; but these 
anticipations were soon dispelled by its 
little tilt forward and very sudden ter- 
mination in the backward swing, caus- 
ing the occupant to look around for the 
obstruction, when, seeing nothing, the 
impetus would be given again with a 
little more energy. After several such 
unsuccessful attempts we came to the 
conclusion that it was its own peculiar 
way of rocking; and the mystery was 
never solved why such a wonderful 
length of rockers produced so few 
rocks; but we managed to obtain un- 
qualified comfort from it, and some 
quiet amusement when strangers at- 
tempted it. 

We finally began housekeeping 
with an old colored woman as cook 
and a boy as waiter. The former was 
a character, a slave of a Mrs. Fogarty, 
who kept the mess-hall and who loaned 
her to me until my cook, a certain 
Aunt Rachel, could come from her 
master at Key West. 

The latter was evidently held in 
great veneration by the colored people; 
and I was considered very fortunate 
in securing her. She was a famous 
cook and the wife of Bill King, the 
cook of the schooner Tortiigas. 

Aunt Eliza was so black that in the 
dark I could see nothing but the whites 
of her eyes, under a huge yellow tur- 
ban, from which two little black braids 
the size of pipestems stood at right 
angles behind each ear, from which 
hung enormous gilt hoops. Her front 
teeth had long since disappeared; and 
I found that the strong odor of a pipe. 

which, she said, came from Jack's 
smoking in the kitchen, was from her 
own, which I found in all sorts of im- 
proper and inconceivable places. 

She stooped so that I asked her the 
cause, when she replied: *' Why, honey, 
dat's from workin' in de cotton field. 
I'se so ugly dey couldn't keep me in 
de house ; and after Mr. Phillips [the 
overseer] bought my gal Clarssy I 
dun took on so, and was dat bad, my 
master glad nuf to sell me down yer." 

But I said where was your hus- 
band? "Oh, Ilef him and got Jack." 
Jack was a good-looking colored boy 
about thirty, while she confessed to 
fifty. He was one of the workmen 
owned in Key West, and lived with 
Aunt Eliza over our kitchen, which 
was a separate house with a chamber 
over it in the rear of the larger one. 
She showed none of her ugliness to 
me, but one day I heard an outcry 
and ran to the dining-room window 
just in time to see Jack flying out of 
the back gate, with Aunt Eliza in 
close pursuit swinging an axe, threat- 
ening to "split his head open if he 
ever came there again." 

I called her in to remonstrate, and 
at first she said she really meant it, 
but after awhile confessed she did it to 
frighten him, as he was so lazy he 
would not wait upon her. "I'se boss, 
Missus," was her explanation. 

For several days she had supreme 
control of the kitchen, with little 
Lewis, and smoked her pipe in peace ; 
then she asked me if Jack might come 
back ; she was lonesome. I consented 
upon the condition that if there were 
any more disturbances he must stay 
away entirely. 

She evidently wanted to please, and 
was anxious to remain in my service ; 
yet without being openly disloyal to 
Aunt Rachel, she never lost an oppor- 
tunity to give a good reason for her 
delay in coming. 

The fort on the inside showed long 
stretches on each curtain of arches, 
making pleasant places for walking, 
cool and shady ; and in the moonlight 
the effect was really beautiful. Looking 



not unlike some grand old ruin with 
its lights and shadows, one could in- 
vest it with all sorts of romance. 
Cooper laid the scene of "Jack Tier" 
here, in a cottage by the lighthouse 
which had given place to the one now 

The seawall around the moat was 
our favorite walk, making nearly a 
mile. The atmosphere was so clear 
that the space between the sky and the 
earth seemed interminable. The sun 
was dazzling in its brightness. 

The wind coming in through the 
embrasures kept the shiny leaves of 
the mangrove constantly quivering; 
and the rattling among the cocoanut 
branches sounded not unlike gentle 
rain. Outside the deep blue water 
was covered with whitecaps, which 
broke into waves wherever the coral 
approached the surface. 

Such was our winter weather, ex- 
cept when a norther came scurrying 
over the gulf; then, as the children 
say, we played that it was cold, and 
built a fire in one of the big fireplaces, 
listened to the wind blowing the 
sand against the windows, and said, 
"Doesn't that sound like snow?" 

The northers lasted three or four 
days; then we would have another 
two or three weeks of lovely summer 
days again, and my husband would 
spend part of each day collecting speci- 
mens. He had built on the water's edge 
a little house with a wall extending fif- 
teen feet square out into the water, so 
that it flowed in and out through the 
interstices; and here he kept all kinds 
of specimens and watched their growth 
and development. 

It was most interesting even to those 
who did not claim to be naturalists ; and, 
as all our outside pleasures were neces- 
sarily aquatic, one learned without an 
effort from the familiarity of natural ob- 
jects; and as our resources were neces- 
sarily limited we took advantage of 
everything that presented itself, and so 
found amusement and entertainment. 

On Sundays Captain Woodbury, 
who with his family were Episcopa- 
lians, read the lessons and afterwards 

a sermon. Mrs. Woodbury had organ- 
ized a choir, some among the white 
workmen, in fact any one who could 
sing ; and everybody was invited to 
attend the service, oftentimes filling 
the large parlor. 

Rowing and trips to the adjacent 
keys for shells, especially after a nor- 
ther, were our frequent pastimes. 

The water was so clear we could dis- 
tinguish objects clearly at the depth of 
sixty feet; and it was like rowing over 
a garden when it was calm, to drift 
along watching the fish darting in and 
out among the huge heads of coral, 
and sea-fans that gently waved back 
and forth in the current. 

Often there would be large schools 
of harmless sharks close in shore. As 
there were acres of shoal water only a 
few feet deep, where all this could be 
seen, and as there were always boats 
ready we went rowing or sailing as the 
people on the mainland went to drive. 

The event of this first winter was a 
visit to Key West, which, in its palmiest 
days, was a lovely place with charming 
society, though the war cloud changed 
it utterly and hopelessly later on. 

We arrived at night, going to the 
hotel, but before breakfast the next 
morning Captain Curtis, to whom we 
had letters of introduction, came and 
took us to his lovely home sheltered in 
a grove of cocoanut trees. It seemed 
a bit of fairy land, so purely tropical 
was it with all the luxur}^ and taste of 
a Northern home. I shall never forget 
the first impression it made upon me. 

We were given the quaintest, cosiest 
little house they called the cabin to 
sleep in; it was in the yard, embowered 
in trees and flowering shrubs, and was 
really a ship's cabin taken from a 
wreck, brough-t there and arranged as 
a guest-room, or two rooms rather, and 
a dressing-room, with a little piazza in 

The very romance of the surround- 
ings kept me awake listening to the 
gentle sound of the wind among the 
trees, when to add to all this we were 
suddenly roused by a serenade of 



Stringed instruments, sweet and soft, 
carrying out the fairy idea of it all. 

The next day we dined at Fort 
Taylor, meeting Captain Hunt and 
Professor Trowbridge. The former was 
the engineer in charge, — a most agree- 
able gentleman, full of life and good 
humor. His wife, who after his sad 
death became the favorite author 
" H. H. , " was in the North. I remem- 
ber Captain Hunt took us to ride in a 
huge carriage drawn by a very small 
mule that was wise enough to under- 
stand that, when the whip dropped 
through the drawbridge, he was mas- 
ter of the situation; and nothing short 
of the prods of the Captain's um- 
brella, after a cane had been sacrificed, 
would arouse him to a sense of duty; 
but he carried us safely to all the 
points of interest. 

The following night a party was 
given us at the fort, where we met 
many delightful people,— Judge Mar- 
vin, Judge Douglass, the officers of the 
steamship Corwin, and a number who 
were to leave the next day ; and as 
Captain Hunt was to return with us 
on a visit at Captain Woodbury's, and 
Judge Douglass and Professor Trow- 
bridge were going to Havana, we 
were invited to go down on the 
steamer Corwin with them. 

My memories of Key West, as it 
was then, are delightful, standing out 
clear and bright ; everj' one was happy 
and contented in their island home. 

So many names come into my mind 
as I write, — Mr. Herrick the rector and 
his hospitable wife, the Bethels, the 
Browns, who had the most beautiful 
home on the island, and many others 
who showed us many kind attentions. 
Judge Douglass was an inimitable 
story-teller; and it was a merry party 
that reluctantly separated at eleven, 
when the steamer reached the entrance 
of Tortugas harbor on the return, 
sending us ashore in a cutter in charge 
of an officer, a son of Bishop Oden- 
heimer of New Jersey. 

Captain Hunt remained a week, and 
Mrs. Woodbury gave a dinner party 
for him ; and, finally, two days before 

he left, I extended the same hospital- 
ity, wondering if he would notice the 
similarity in china and table equip- 
ments, for our "things" were yet en 
route; even the chairs had not reached 
Key West. 

Calling in Sophy Benners, the chief 
cook of the island, who belonged to 
the lighthouse keeper, and deposing 
old Eliza, who looked rather mourn- 
ful over the downfall, we planned a 
dinner that must have been a surprise; 
there were fruits and flowers and bor- 
rowed china, even to the chairs, which 
I feared encountered the guests going 
into the back door as they entered the 
front, as the hall passed through from 
front to rear. 

My guests were kind enough to pro- 
nounce the dinner a success, and I 
enjoyed the novelty of the whole 
thmg extremely, perhaps more than I 
should if my ingenuity had been less 

A few days later Sophy Benners (for 
the slaves all took the name of their 
masters) and Peter . Philor proposed 
entering the married state with more 
than ordinary pomp and splendor. 
The master, Mr. Philor, lived in Key 
West, owning a large number of slaves 
who worked on the fort, there bei g 
four Johns alone, the last one always 
giving his name as "John de fofe, 
sah," in answer to the overseer's call. 
Peter had obtained permission from 
his master to marry Sophy, and so 
came to Captain Woodbury to ask if 
he would marry them. The latter re- 
plied, " Certainly, where are you going 
to be married ?" 

" In your parlor, sah," said Peter. 
And we heard that Sophy had given 
out invitations to this effect : 

"Sophy will be agreeable to her 
friends at seben o'clock in Captain 
Woodbury's parlor; after dat comes de 


Aunt Eliza soon came up to tell me 
what was going to happen, and I asked 
her if she was going to the ball. 

"Sartinly, ma'am, and I must go 
and wash my skin, now I'se got de 
kettle on." 



The wedding was an affair to be re- 
membered. All the white people as- 
sembeled in the front parlor; and at 
the supreme moment the folding doors 
were thrown open, and the bridal 
part}' came forward : two bridesmaids 
all in white, and two groomsmen. The 
bride wore a white veil with flowers; 
and she was married with a ring, her 
mistress giving her away (in theory 

The boys (all the black men were 
called boys) had had their hair braided 
for a week; and some of their heads 
were large enough to fill a bushel 

After the couple were pronounced 
man and wife they adjourned to the 
mess-hall, the guests following in 
about an hour, as every one had been 
formally invited. 

We saw them dance a while; then 
they passed us cake. and wine, and we 
started to go home, when some one 
said we ought to stay and see Aunt 
Eliza dance a jig, and to my amaze- 
ment my old cook with a young man 
took the floor. She looked rather shy, 
saying, '_' de Lor', I cyant dance;" but 
the music soon took possession of her 
poor old feet, and she gradually 
straightened up, swaying back and 
forth with the music, evidently for- 
getting everything else. She danced 
away until I could scarcely believe 
that the jubilant figure was the old 
slave that groaned and grumbled 
about the little work demanded of her. 
She outdanced the boy and left him 
far behind. They are as a race music- 
loving; and I saw in a dark corner of 
the ballroom mj' incorrigible ser^-ant 
Lewis dancing all by himself happy as 
a king. 

We learned that the colored people 
knew old Eliza's gift and had coaxed 
her to come and dance a jig, w4th the 
promise that one of the boys should do 
all her scrubbing on Friday; and we 
certainly came near being flooded the 
following day. He was as good as his 
word, as the house shone from top to 

Old Eliza was such a character I 
cannot refrain fi-om recounting some of 
her amusing, yet at the time rather 
perplexing, acts. 

The dignity of cook was not easily- 
adjusted, and rather overpowering, but 
she improved as time went on. In 
the early days of her new position, 
installed in a house the same as the 
cook of the commanding officer, she 
felt her importance and showed it, not 
unlike wiser and older people. Such 
differences vary only in degree; and in 
her case it was very amusing. 

Fresh beef was a luxury only in- 
dulged in occasionally; but turtles were 
kept in the moat and killed whenever 
we wanted them. 

As I was not accustomed to the 
methods of preparation in vogue on 
the reef, and not wishing to unneces- 
sarily expose my ignorance, I con- 
cluded "that discretion was the better 
part of valor," and pretended to be 
very busy in the house, so that on those 
days Eliza was mistress of the kitchen. 
The first time she prepared green 
turtle a very fine soup was served, 
followed by what she called turtle 

After dinner Eliza asked me how I 
liked it. 

_ I replied very much, only the next 
time we would try it without onions. 
They had brought me a quantity 
and I had told her to partly cook what 
was left, to be sure that it would 

The following forenoon she came 
upstairs and said, "What shall we 
hab for dinner, Missis ? " 

"Why, the turtle balls that were 
left yesterday," I replied, "and what- 
ever vegetables we can get, with a 
pineapple tart." 

She looked at me with a queer ex- 
pression, finally bursting into an em- 
barrassed laugh, and said: " De Lor', 
de Lor', how funny. Yo' 'spect to hab 
dem balls for dinner, and I and Jack 
and Lewis dun eat 'em all up las' night. 
De Lor', de Lor', I eat five, like to 
kill me, and Jack say he neber eat 
sech balls on dis yer key fore. ' ' 



"But," I said, "you told me you 
did not like them, never ate them, and 
I gave you bacon for your dinner." 

I suppose she saw a look of dis- 
may on my face, for she stopped laugh- 
ing and said : 

"I'se sorry, Missis;! tout you didn't 
like 'em wid de onions, so we dun eat 
um. De Lor', want dey good." 

" Well," I said, as a dinner without 
meat seemed to be the prospect, ' ' make 
an ochre soup and we will do without 
fresh meat to-day," and she left me, 
as I thought, with rather a woe begone 

When the soup was served at din- 
ner, the ochre was certainly not in 
suflBcient quantity to warrant its name, 
and I said, " Why didn't you put in 
more ochre ?" 

" Why," she replied, with a toss of 
her head that endangered the founda- 
tion of the yellow turban, " want time, 
Miss, want time, guess ise made soup 

"But," I said, "it would not take 
any longer to cook all you had than a 

Seeing there was no help for it, the 
confession very awkwardly followed, 
that they had eaten the ochres too. 

I then learned that I nuist treat her 
like a child, giving her what she was 
to have, and telling her what to serve 

I had learned that planning one's 
meals at the Dry Tortugas depended, 
in a great measure, upon one's wits 
and ingenuity. 

The plan was to bring us fresh beef 
from the mainland once a month ; but 
the best of intentions fail sometimes, 
and our supply was no exception to 
that rule. 

Time sped very rapidly notwith- 
standing our necessarily monotonous 
life, the greatest events of interest con- 

sisting in our mails; and the delight 
with which we hailed the sight of the 
mail .schooner Tortugas over the top of 
the fort when we looked out in the 
morning never abated. 

No orders of removal had yet arrived 
for Captain Woodbury, although they 
had spent their four years there, so 
they decided to go North for the sum- 

Our intercourse had been so delight- 
ful that the prospect of living there 
without them was appalling; for my 
husband had become so interested in 
his scientific labors he had planned to 
remain another year. Our household 
goods had arrived from the North some 
time before, so that the home began to 
look cheerful; yet Mrs. Woodbury's 
piano and large family nearly always 
attracted us there in the evenings. 

The mornings were devoted to les- 
sons for the young folks, but the after- 
noons invariably found us on the water 
or wandering over some of the adjacent 
keys, where the boys became apt pu- 
pils in the study of natural objects. 

Our evenings after the little folks 
were asleep we spent together, reading 
aloud or with music and conversation; 
and the peaceful happy life we led I 
think was often, by all of us, looked 
back upon in the sorrowful years that 
followed, if not with longing, with 
great pleasure. 

They were sad days before and after 
Captain Woodbury's family left, for it 
took some time to ad j ust ourselves to the 
loneliness that followed; and I never 
shall forget the peculiar sensation with 
which I watched the schooner Tortu- 
gas float away with thm all one 
bright moonlight night, leaving us 
almost alone upon this sand bank on 
the borders of the great Gulf Stream. 

(7b be continued.) 


By Grace Ellery Channing. 

I KNOW how just this morning Hght will trace 
Each golden face; 
And how this self-same beam strike boldly up 

Each glittering cup! 
And how this breeze lift the wide quivering sea 

Up bodily, 
And then in golden waves on the broad plain 

Eet fall again! 
The mountains will be palest amethyst 

Through a purple mist. 
The valley will be blossoming white and pink, 

More than I think! 
Almonds and peaches will have decked their hair 

With garlands rare; 
And birds will be on every blossomed bough, 

Caroling now; 
Now will the lark his dropping music fling,— 

I'm listening ! — 
Heaven will stretch down two tender arms, and earth 

Laugh low for mirth ! 
And where there was desire will be peace, 

And then increase 
The summer long of heaven upon earth, 

And new, heaven's birth, 
And songful silences and silent song 

The summer long ! 
But just to-day all that joy will be holden 

In poppies golden. 
It will be brimming o'er their cups aglow 

In a way I know, 
And shining up the mountains goldenly 

In mists, — Ah me! 
I've seen it, — and I shall not see for years! 

These are the mists — not tears I 


By Harry h- Wells. 

MUCH interest is felt in National 
Guard circles everywhere in the 
proposed mobilization and grand 
encampment of all the State troops in 
the countr)' in Chicago in 1893, as a 
feature of the Woild's Columbian Ex- 
position. We have in the United 
States about one hundred and five 
thousand men, regularly enlisted into 
the service of the various States, and 
organized into regiments, brigades and 

In numbers this is an army of re- 
spectable proportions, and were it prop- 
erly equipped for field service, well 
officered and thoroughly instructed in 
field maneuvers and camp duty, would 
be a strong arm upon which the Nation 
could rely in time of need; but its con- 
dition and probable efficiency in an 
emergency are unknown quantities. 
No man is competent to speak of either 
its merits or defects; for there has been 
no opportunity to fully investigate 
either. That the guard of some States 
is better organized and equipped than 
others, has had more practical instruc- 
tion, is well known; but the general 
merits of the entire body, and what it 
could accomplish as a whole, are yet 
to be ascertained. It is for the purpose 
of learning this and of discovering 
what is necessary to be done to perfect 
the National Guard system and make 
the organization more efficient, that 
the mobilization proposed is chiefly 
desirable and would be of benefit to 
the nation. The countn,- can well 
afford the cost of acquiring such im- 
portant information and reaping the 
benefits that must flow from it. 

In view of this probable assembly of 
citizen soldier^', the question naturally 
arises on the Pacific Coast of how its 
National Guard will compare wuth the 
troops from older and more populous 

States. In the States immediately 
bordering the ocean there are about 
six thousand troops, of which Califor- 
nia has thirty-five hundred, Oregon 
fifteen hundred and Washington one 
thousand. Of these Oregon is main- 
taining the greatest number in propor- 
tion to its population. California spends 
the most money per man, and Oregon 
the least, in equipping and maintain- 
ing the service. California troops have 
the most complete equipment, and Ore- 
gon the most defective, as a whole, as 
would naturally be expected in view of 
the comparative cost of maintaining the 
service in the three States mentioned ; 
yet all of them require considerable 
addition to their equipment before they 
can pass the inspection proposed to be 
given them in Chicago, and be pro- 
nounced prepared for campaign duty. 
Yet, notwithstanding this, in looking 
over the three States to find the regi- 
ment the best able to represent them in 
the comparison that will inevitably be 
made between the troops of the Pacific 
Coast and those of such States as New 
York, Pennsylvania and Massachu- 
setts, it will be found that the choice 
must rest upon the First Regiment of 
Oregon. In drill, discipline and gen- 
eral effectiveness, this regiment stands 
at the head of the National Guard of 
the Pacific Coast. In the high char- 
acter of its rank and file, and the su- 
perior qualifications of its line and 
field officers, this regiment is peculiarly 
fortunate; and to these is due its high 
state of discipline and drill. 

The First Regiment of Oregon was 
organized in Portland in 1886, as the 
successor of a previous crude battalion 
organization ; but it was not until the 
following year that a proper military 
law was passed, and a tax levied for 
the support of the service. It was then 



that the troops ceased to be " Ma- 
lishy," and became a regularly organ- 
ized National Guard. The regiment 
now consists of six companies, occupy- 
ing a superb armory in Portland, and 
two companies in different towns a few 
miles distant; but the remarks upon 
its drill and discipline are based upon 
the six urban companies, which, occu- 
pying rooms in the same armory, using 
the same excellent drill-hall, and meet- 
ing together frequently in battalion 
drill, vie with each other in striving for 
excellence in all that pertains to the 
soldier individually and to a company 
as a military organization. It was of 
them that President Harrison re- 
marked, when they marched before 
him in review like veterans, with the 
rain pouring down upon them in tor- 
rents and the mud covering their feet, 
their eyes straight to the front and 
their lines perfectly dressed, that it 
was the finest body of troops he had 
seen during his entire tour of the coun- 
try. Not only upon this occasion, but 
upon many others, military men of 
high rank and long army experience 
have paid the regiment the highest 
compliments upon its appearance and 

The armory in Portland is the finest 
and largest west of Chicago. It was 
built by the county of Multnomah at a 
cost of $90,000 for the structure alone, 
and was furnished and equipped for 
use by the regiment itself at a cost of 
nearly $ro,ooo more. It is a massive 
stone and brick edifice, two stories 
high, covering an entire block of 
ground 200 feet square. The windows 
are protected by iron bars, and pro- 
vision is made for defense of. the walls 
by bastions on the corners, with port 
holes, or embrasures, commanding all 
four sides. The south half is the ad- 
ministrative portion, in which are the 
headquarters rooms, field and staff 
room, non-commissioned staff room, 
band room, quartermaster's room, li- 
brary, board of officers' room and a 
room for each company. Through its 
center runs a wide assembly hall, upon 
the walls of which are the gun-racks, 

with each piece numbered and in its 
place, and the racks .securely locked. 
All rooms are suitably and beautifully 
furnished, but the company rooms are 
especially so. 

The walls are tastefully and expres- 
sively decorated, the furniture is ele- 
gant, the lockers are finely finished in 
walnut, mahogany, oak, etc., each 
room having a diiferent tone and fin- 
ish. Pictures, statuettes, busts, pianos, 
library cases, center tables, rugs, etc., 
give the rooms a most attractive ap- 
pearance. The second floor consists 
of one large room 100 x 200 feet, wath 
a truss roof, which was formerly used 
as a drill-hall, but will soon be equip- 
ped with gymnastic apparatus. 

The north half of the armory con- 
sists of one large drill hall 100x200 
feet, two stories high, with a truss 
roof and skylight, and equipped with 
electric lights. The floor is solid 
asphaltum. Surrounding it is a gal- 
lery capable of seating comfortably 
one thousand people, with a bandstand 
at the east end. In this room are held 
the company and battalion drills and 
the athletic games given frequently by 
the regimental athletic club. In the 
foundation of this portion is a brick 
and stone tunnel 200 feet long, equip- 
ped as a rifle range at a cost of $7,000, 
where regular indoor rifle practice is 

The target is reduced to represent 
the regulation target at 200 yards, 
and reduced ammunition, carefully 
calculated for the distance, is used. 
The range is perfect in all its features. 
In addition to this the regiment has a 
fine outdoor range at Riverside, four 
miles from the city, on the bank of 
the Willamette River. 

Battery A, O. N. G., occupies the 
rear end of the south half of the 
armory, and uses the large hall for 
drill Saturday nights. The battery 
has two field pieces and two gatling 
guns, and is under the able command 
of Capt. E. L,. Anderson, an artillery 
officer of experience in the Civil War. 

Capt. Andenson has had command 
but a few months, but the improve- 



ment in the battery is very marked. 
His subordinate officers are Senior 
First Lieut. George Thing, Junior 
First Lieut. William Iliif, Second 
Lieut. H. W. Williams. 

Although occupying quarters in the 
armory, the battery is not officially 
attached to the regiment, but reports 
direct to brigade headquarters. En- 
trance to the battery's quarters is had 
through the large door on the side, 
shown in the engraving. The locker 
and meeting room of the battery is 
handsomely furnished. This is the 
only battery in the State service. 

The regiment is hard at work upon 
the new drill regulations, and hopes 
soon to reach as high a stale of per- 
fection in battalion drill and the move- 
ments in extended order as it has 
attained in the Upton tactics. That 
it will do this, if the present officers 
remain in command, can not be 
doubted; for they are all able instruc- 
tors and capable of speedily mastering 
the details of the new regulations. 
The present aim of the , organization 
is to go to Chicago in 1893 with full 
ranks and a perfection of drill that 
will reflect credit upon the National 
Guard of the Pacific Coast when com- 
pared with that of any State in the 
Union. The companies occupying 
the armory are A, C. E, G, I and K. 

Company A is the oldest militia or- 
ganization in the State now in exist- 
ence. It dates back to the troublous 
times of the Civil War, and has had 
upon its rolls many of the leading 
business men of the city. It is the 
only survivor of the old "Malishy," 
but resembles its former self in noth- 
ing, being now a worthy member of 
the National Guard. Its officers are 
Capt. F. D. Kelsey, First Lieut. J. C. 
Rutenic, Second Lieut. H. C. Spear. 
Company C has been organized a 
little more than two years, and is the 
youngest of the Portland companies, 
it is a well-drilled and enthusiastic 
company. Its officers are Capt. J. H. 
Porter, Second Lieut. Chas. Hand. 

Company E was originally organ- 
ized by the Grand Army posts about 

ten years ago, but for a number of 
3'ears has been in no way connected 
with that organization. Its member- 
ship is similar to that of the others. 
Company E excels in target practice, 
and holds the regimental champion- 
ship, its captain also holding the State 
badge for individual competition. Its 
officers are Capt. E. W. Moore, First 
Lieut. J. T. Moore, Second Lieut. C. 
C. Merton. 

Company G was organized eight 
3-ears ago, and was the first company 
in the State to set a high standard of 
drill, discipline and individual excel- 
lence. It has won several competitive 
drills from well-drilled companies, and 
not only has never been defeated but 
has issued an open challenge to any 
National Guard company on the 
Coast. It also excels in athletics, 
and in every way is a model military 
organization. Its officers are Capt. 
L. C Farrar, First Lieut. G. T. Wil- 
lett, Second Lieut. J. W. Newkirk. 

Company I was originally organized 
in the High School four years ago. It 
has always been filled with enthusiasm, 
and is a splendidly drilled organiza- 
tion. Its members now average of 
elder age than at first, and it has 
ceased to be the "kid company," and 
is as solid and substantial as could be 
wished. It stands ready to compete 
with any company on the Coast. Its 
officers 'are Capt. J. C. Coffee, First 
Lieut. R. K. Lee. Second Lieut. F. E- 

Company K was born in the troub- 
lous times of the spring of 1886, when 
violence was threatened to the Chinese. 
It was mustered in for ninety days, 
and contained the most prominent of 
the younger business and professional 
men of the city. At the expiration of 
its term of ninety days it veteranized 
and became a permanent organization. 
But two of the original members now 
remain, the captain and second lieu- 
tenant, but the standard of member- 
ship has been well preserved. The 
officers are Capt. Harry L. Wells, 
First Lieut. T. N. Strong, Second 
Lieut. C. K. Cranston. 



In its field and staff the regiment is 
peculiarly fortunate in having officers 
of great ability and zeal. Col. Chas. 

F. Beebe, the commandant, has no su- 
perior as an executive officer, disci- 
plinarian and drill instructor in the 
entire National Guard of the United 
States; and chiefly from him come the 
impulse and influence that have raised 
the regiment to its high state of effi- 
ciency. Added to zeal and a strong mil- 
itary instinct, he has the advantage of a 
course of instruction in the Seventh 
Regiment, N. G. S. N. Y., and expe- 
rience as a staff officer and inspector 
in the New York service. He is now 
temporarily in command of the bri- 
gade, while the regiment is under the 
command of Lieut.-Col. O. Summers. 
Col. Summers is a veteran of the 
war, is Department Commander of the 

G. A. R. of Oregon, and is an able and 
devoted officer. Major B. B. Tuttle is 
a graduate of the cavalry service of the 
war, in which he rose to the rank of 
captain, and was with Sheridan in 
the Shenandoah. The staff consists of 
First lyieut. Geo. F. Telfer, a model 
adjutant; Capt. H. F. Stevens, sur- 
geon; Capt. A. J. Brown, chaplain; 
First Lieut. C. E. Macrum, a.ssist. 
surgeon; First Lieut. E. Bernheim, 
quartermaster; First Lieut. E. W. Le- 
land, commissary; First Lieut. D. J, 
Moore, signal officer; First Lieut. L. 

C. Jones, inspector of small arms prac- 
tice; First Lieut. W. F. McCaw, engin- 
eer officer, who was the architect of the 

Each company drills regularly one 
night each week, and as much oftener 
as it may desire. Tuesday is head- 
quarters' night, when the staff and 
non-commissioned staff are busj- tran.s- 
acting official business. Besides this, 
schools of instruction and squad drills 
give the armory a livelj^ appearance 
every night. Battalion drills are fre- 
quent in the spring, the company work 
not being interfered with any more 
than necessary during the fall and 
winter. This enables the companies 
to get themselves into good condition 
after the summer vacation, drill up 
their recruits, and be thoroughly pre- 
pared for battalion drill when that 
branch of instruction is undertaken. 
This system has given the most grati- 
fying results, the regiment thus being 
evenly developed from the foundation 
upward. In learning the new regula- 
tions, company and regimental schools 
for officers and non-commissioned of- 
ficers will precede battalion instruc- 
tion; so that both officers and guides 
will be thoroughly competent to per- 
form their duties when battalion evo- 
lutions are undertaken, and perfection 
in battalion drill will be easily ac- 


[Some years ago a collection of papers was found in one of the libraries of Madrid that proved 
to be the diary of the discoveries of Cabrillo kept by his pilot Ferrel, in the famous voyage along 
the California coast in 1542, in which the natives of California were first seen and described by 
white men. The book was translated for this Government by Mr. Richard Stuart Evans, the title 
of the volume being, " Coleccion de various documentos, para la historia de la Florida y tierras 
adyacentes (Tomo I.), en la casa de Triibner y Compania, Num. — Paternoster Row, L,ondres." 
The following is the literal translation as given in the report of the geographical survey, and is of 
great interest, as it mentions and describes man}- of the locations, as Santa Barbara, San Diego and 
others that are now flourishing American cities, which then were the homes of unnumbered tribes.] 

JUAN Rodriguez set out from the port 
of Navidad [a port on the Mexican 
coast about 315 miles north of Aca- 
pulco] to discover the coast of New- 
Spain on the 27th day of June, 1542. 

He was delayed from the port of 
Navidad to Cape Corriente a day and 
a night, 40 leagues, with a southeast 

From Wednesday to the following 
Thursday they held their course along 
the coast 35 leagues. 

Sunday, the 2d daj^ of Jul}', they 
had sight of California; they were de- 
layed in crossing over by the weather, 
which was not ver}^ favorable, almost 
four days; they anchored the follow- 
ing Monday, on the third of the same, 
off the Point of California, and were 
here two days, and from this place 
they reached the port of San Lucas 
[San Lucas Bay] the following Thurs- 
day, and took in water; they saw 
these da3^s no Indian; they sa}- that 
this port is in 23 degrees, and from the 
point to the port it is clear and sound- 
able, and the land is bare and rugged 
[as at present]. 

They departed from the port of San 
Lucas Thursda}^ in the night, and 
the following Saturday, on the eighth 
of the said month, the}' cast anchor 
on the Point of Trinidad [Cape To.sco], 
which is in 25 degrees; it is from San 
Lucas 5 [doubtless intended for 35, 
the actual distance] leagues; it is 
a clean coast, without any deviation; 
within, on the land, appear high and 
bare and rugged ridges [a description 
which applies to this day]; they were 
at anchor here on account of contrarv 

winds from west-northwest until the 
following Wednesday. 

Wednesday, the twelfth day of said 
month, they departed from this place. 
In Puerto de le Trinidad [Santa Marina 
Bay, which adjoins on the south Mag- 
dalena and Almejas bays], an island 
[Margarita Island] forms the port 
which is here, and it is a good port, 
sheltered from the west-northwest 
winds. The port of the island is at the 
head of the island on the southeast 
side, and the port is clear and sound- 
able; it has not water nor wood [nor 
has it now]. The island has 10 leagues 
of length and 2 leagues of breadth; 
they anchored that night. 

They departed the Thursday follow- 
ing, and passed by Puerto de San 
Pedro [Magdalena Bay], which is in 
2^% degrees. In this port there is no 
water nor wood; its direction is south- 
east [and northwest]; it had a good 
shelter from the west winds. They con- 
tinued sailing along the coast, which 
forms a large creek, the head of which 
is in 26 degrees [creek indicated on 
present maps, but without name]; the 
land is low and covered with sand- 
banks, the coast white and clear [as at 
present]. They proceeded sailing along 
this coast with fair winds as far as 27 
degrees, and Wednesday, the nine- 
teenth of the said month, they landed 
at a port which they found, and going 
on shore they found a path used by 
Indians and followed it the distance of 
an arquebuse shot, where they found 
a fountain of water; the land is level 
within and bare and very dry; they 
save it the name of Puerto de la Mada- 



lena [Pequena Bay]; it is 40 leagues 
from the Bay of San Martin to this port. 
The following Thursday, on the 
twentieth of the said month, they de- 
parted from this port and proceeded, 
sailing along the coast wdth bad winds; 
and about 6 leagues from that place 
they found an anchorage behind a 
point, which they called Punta de 
Santa Catalina [noted, but not named, 
on present maps]; and so they con- 
tinued sailing along the coast. And 
the Tuesday following, on the 25th of 
the said month of July, they dis- 
covered a large bay in i-jyi degrees. 
They made very little progress these 
days on account of the bad weather. 
They cast anchor in this port and gave 
it the name of Puerto de Santiago 
[Abreojos Bay]; it is distant from 
Puerto de Madalena 23 leagues. There 
are from Punta de Santiago for 5 
leagues some very dangerous shoals 
and rocks, and they do not appear ex- 
cept when the sea breaks upon them 
[the present condition]; they are i 
league from the land and in a Uttle 
over 27^ degrees; they are called 
Habre Ojo (Look Out) [Abreojos 
Shoals]. They proceeded, sailing on 
the same course along the coast as 
far as 28 degrees, and there anchored 
under shelter of a point [Hipolito 
Point, except the island. The close 
correspondence of the distances attests 
the correctness of this location. The 
island mentioned has doubtless been 
washed away, and a shoal is all that 
at present remains.] Here are groves 
of trees which they did not see from 
the Point of California; it is from this 
point to Puerto de Santiago at the 
northwest point 23 leagues. [With- 
out doubt an error. From the dis- 
tance given it would appear as though 
San Pedro Vincula (Port San Bar- 
tolome) was intended.] There are 
high and broken ridges with some 
woodland. We gave it the name of 
Santa Ana [anchorage behind Hipo- 
lito Point]; it has a little island about 
1 league from the land. 

Thursday, on the twenty-seventh of 
the same month, they departed from 

said Puerto de Santa Ana and cast 
anchor about 6 leagues from that 
place itt a port which they named 
Puerto Forxiii .[bay east of Asuncion 
Island] on account of the great depth 
which it had, as n^ar the land it had 
30 fathoms; it is clear; and they de- 
parted the foUowdng day frpja.the said 
port, and turned back three, times to 
the said port with contrary winds;. ?jnd 
they were in the said port until ' the 
following Monday. 

Monday, the thirty-first of the same 
month, they departed from the said 
Puerto Fondo and anchored about 8 
leagues thence that night, and the 
next day departed on their voyage. 

Tuesday, the ist day of August, 
they left that place, and they pro- 
ceeded about ID leagues [actually 13], 
where they anchored in a port to 
which they gave the name of San 
Pedro Vincul^v [Port San Bartolome] ; 
this port is in sight of the Isle of Ze- 
dros (cedars). [Probably intended for 
Cedros; now know^n as Cerros Island. 
It was discovered by Ulboa and named 
Isla de Cedros, — not Cerros (hills). 
See Burney, vol. II, pp. 243, 244.] 
This port is in 28j4 long degrees (a 
little over 285^ degrees); the land is 
high and rugged and bare. From Cali- 
fornia to this place we have seen no 

Wednesday, on the second of the 
said mouth, they departed from this 
port; and the wind was contrary, and 
they proceeded beating. They cast 
anchor at an island which is 4 leagues 
[actually 3] distant from the southeast 
side of the island of Zedros; and they 
named this island San Esteban [Na- 
tividad]. With the extremity of the 
point of the mainland running east 
and west, the coast is northwest and 
southeast; it is a league from the 
mainland. From this point [Point 
Eugenio] the mainland turns the coast 
towards the northeast and makes a 
large creek, so that the land does not 
appear. Between the island and the 
mainland there is a good channel; and 
they had to pass close to the island, 
for there are shoals which extend in a 



ridge from the point for a quarter of a 
league. There is much '.egetation 
on the water which grow*? from the 
bottom and is tangled beneath the sur- 
face [kelp]. This island [/. <?., Nativ- 
idad] runs with San Pedro Vincula 
northwest and southeast; this island 
has 3 leagu-es in We were 
at this island with the wind contrarj^ 
until the following Saturday, the 5th 
of the said month of August. It has 
a good port on the side of the south- 
east. There is much fishing with a 
hook, and many birds are found. 

They departed from the island of 
San Esteban Saturday, the 5th of 
August, and anchored at the island of 
Zedros [Cerros Island], where they re- 
mained until Thursday, the tenth of 
the said month, taking in water and 
wood. They found no Indians, al- 
though they found some sign of them. 
The leeward point of this island on the 
south side is in 29 degrees; and it has 
on this south side good ports and 
water and wood; and it is on this part 
bare, as it has only some small shrubs 
[so at present]. The i.sland is large 
and high and bare, and runs almost 
east and west [at present north and 
south], and is on this side of the south 
12 leagues in length [the island is 
much smaller than is here given]. 

They departed from the island of 
Zedros on Thursday, the loth day of 
the said month of August, to pursue 
their voyage, and proceeded on the 
side of the mainland, sailing to the 
north. They went this day about 10 
leagues, and the following Friday cast 
anchor in a port which they called 
Puerto de Santa Clara [Play'a Maria 
Bay]; it is a good port. They landed 
and found four Indians, who fled. 
This port is in 30 degrees .scant; it 
runs with the island of Zedros north- 
east and southwest; and this coast 
runs from the port towards the creek 
north-northwest and .south- southeast. 
The coast is clean and .soundable; the 
land is bare and and is not rugged. It 
has plains and valleys. They were in 
this port until Sunday, the 13th of the 
said month, on account of foul winds. 

Sunday, the thirteenth of the said 
month, they departed from this port 
and went sailing along the coast with 
slack winds, anchoring each night; 
and the following Tuesda}^ they cast 
anchor on a point which forms an in- 
let, which is in 3054 degrees; it af- 
fords very little shelter; they called it 
Punta del Mai Abrigo (Point of Bad 
Protection) [Point Canoa.s]. 

The Wednesday following they 
were sailing along the coast and had a 
heavy northwest wind, which was con- 
trary; and they lay by at night with- 
out making any progress; and the 
follcm'ing Thursday they held on with 
heavy rains and adverse winds and 
calms, so that they made no headway; 
and this following night they had 
much wind from the west-northwest, 
and lay by. The following Friday they 
proceeded with fair winds, and they 
found themselves to windward of the 
Point of Mai Abrigo 6 leagues; and 
so they held on until the following 
Saturday, the nineteenth of the said 
month, when they cast anchor off a 
small island which is half a league 
from the mainland. It may be 10 
leagues from the Point of Mai Abrigo; 
it is in 301/2 degrees; it has good 
anchorage and good shelter; they 
called it San Bernardo [Geronimo 
Island]; it extends one league north 
and south [actually one mile]. The 
coast of the mainland runs north- 
northwest and south-southeast and 
is a clean coast. The land within 
is of very good appearance and level; 
and there are good valleys and some 
trees, and the rest is bare. They 
did not find these days a sign of In- 

Sunday, the 20th of said month of 
August, they departed from the island 
of San Bernardo and approached 
Punta del Engaho (Point Deception), 
which is 7 leagues from this island, 
which point is in 31 degrees. [This 
point noted, but no name on present 
Coast Survey charts.] 

The coast of the point toward the 
island runs north-northwest, south- 
southeast. On Punta del Engano the 



land is not high, and appears in itself 
a good and level land. The ridges 
are bare. We saw no sign of Indians; 
and so they continued sailing until the 
next Monday, following the coast to 
the north and the northeast; and about 
lo leagues from Punta del Engaiio 
they discovered a good port, in which 
they anchored and took in water and 
wood. It is in 31 ^2 degrees. It is a 
port suitable for making some repairs 
for the ships, placing them under the 

The following Tuesday the captain, 
Juan Rodriguez Cabrillo, went on 
.shore and took of it in the 
name of his Majesty and of the most 
illustrious Sefior D. Antonio de Men- 
doza, and gave it the name of Puerto 
de la Posesion [Port St. Quentin]. He 
found a lake which has three large* 

; and they found some Indian 

fishermen, who immediately fled. 
They took one of them, and giving 
him certain presents they released him, 
and he went off". The land in the in- 
terior is high and rugged and has 
good valleys, and appears to be a good 
country, although it is bare. They 
were on shore here until Sunday, the 
twenty-seventh of said month, repair- 
ina the .sails and obtaining a supply of 
water; and Thursday they saw cer- 
tain smokes and went there with the 
boat and found about thirty Indian 
fishermen, who were peaceable; and 
they brought to the .ship a boy and 
two Indian women, to whom they ga\e 
clothing and presents and let them go; 
— from whom they could understand 
nothing by .signs. 

The following Friday, going to take 
in water, they found at the watering- 
place certain Indians who were peace- 
able, and these showed them a pond 
of water and a salt pit which con- 
tained much; and they said by signs 
that they had not their habitation 
there, but in the interior, and that 
there w^ere many people. This same 
day in the evening five Indians came 
to the shore, whom they brought to 

*An equal blank in the original. Reference prob- 
ably made to " three large' \-illages. 

the ships; and they appeared intelli- 
gent Indians; and entering in the ship 
they took note of the vSpaniards who 
were there and counted them, and 
made signs that they had seen other 
men like them who had beards, and 
who brought dogs and crossbows and 
swords. The Indians came anointed 
with a white bitumen on the thighs 
and body and arms; and they had the 
bitumen applied in the manner of 
slashes, so that they appeared like 
men in slashed doublets and; and 
they made signs that five days" jour- 
ney thence were the Spaniards. And 
they made signs that there were many 
Indians, and that they had much maize 
and many parrots. They came covered 
with deerskins, and .some had the 
deerskins dressed in the manner in 
which the Mexicans the skins 
which they carry in the cutters. It is 
an advanced and well-disposed people. 
The}' carry bows and arrows like those 
of New Spain, the arrows tipped with 
flints. The captain gave them a let- 
ter, which they should carry to the 
Spaniards who they said were in the 

They departed from this Puerto 
de la Posesion Sunday, the 27th of 
the said month of August, and sail- 
ing on their course found an island 2 
leagues from the mainland; it is un- 
inhabited; there is a good port in it; 
they gave it the name of San Agustin 
[St. Martin]; it contains 2 leagues in 
circumference; and so they held on 
along the coast with slack winds, ply- 
ing to windward until the following 
Wednesday, the thirtieth day of said 
month, which gave them much wind 
from the northwest, which made them 
put into the island of San Agustin. 
In this island they found some sign of 
people and two cow-horns, and very 
large trees which the sea had cast 
there, which had more than sixty feet 
in length, and were of such thickness 
that two men could not cla.sp one of 
them; these appeared to be cypresses, 
and there were cedars. There was a 
large quantity of this wood; it con- 
tains nothing else. If a good port, it 



is not a valuable island; they were in 
this island until the following Sunday. 

On Sunday, the 3d day of the month 
of September, they departed from the 
said island of St. Agustin and pro- 
ceeded, sailing on their course; and 
the following Monday they cast 
anchor about 7 leagues distant on the 
weather shore, on a coast running 
north and south; and immediately 
they set sail and held on their course 
with fair and light winds on a coast 
running north and south until Thurs- 
day, the 7th day of the said month of 
September, when they cast anchor in 
a creek which the land forms [Todos 
Santos Bay]; and here ends the coast, 
which runs north and south and turns 
to the northwest. On this creek there 
is a large valley; and the land is level 
on the coast; and within are high 
ridges and rugged land good in ap- 
pearance. All the coast is bold and 
with a smooth bottom, as at half a 
league from land they were at anchor 
in 10 fathoms; here there is much 
vegetation on the water [kelp]. 

On the Friday following, on the 8th 
of the said month, the}^ held on with 
slack winds, plying to windward; and 
the}' found here contrary currents. 
They cast anchor at a point which 
forms a cape, and affords a good shel- 
ter from the west-northwest; they gave 
it the name of Cabo de San Martin 
[apparently no name for this cape at 
present]; there is an edge of land on 
both sides; here some high sierras 
which come behind throw out spurs 
and begin other small sierras. There 
is a large valley and many others; in 
appearance it is good land; it is in 
2,2% degrees, and is a clean port and 
soundable; it runs with the island of 
San Agustin north and south. 

Being at this Cabo de San Martin 
they went on shore for water, and 
found a small lagoon with sweet water, 
where they procured water; and at 
this watering-place came fort\; Indians 
with their bows and arrows; they could 
not understand each other; they came 
naked; they brought roasted agaves 
to eat [probabl^^ either Agave Shavvii 

or Yucca Whipplei, both being indig- 
enous to this region] and fish; it is an 
advanced race. Here they took posses- 
sion; they were at this cape until the 
following Monday. 

Monda}', on the eighth of the said 
month, they departed from Cabo de 
San Martin and sailed about 4 leagues 
on a coast running from north-north- 
east to south-southwest; and thence 
the coast turns to the northwest. The 
land is lofty and bare; and the day 
following they sailed also with foul 
winds about 4 leagues on a coast run- 
ning from northwest to southeast. 
On the land there are high and broken 
sierras; and the following Thursday 
they cast anchor at about 3 leagues in 
advance at a point which projects into 
the sea, which forms a cape on both 
sides; they called it Cabo de la Cruz; it 
is in 33 degrees; there is no water nor 
wood, nor did they find any signs of 

Having departed from Cabo de la 
Cruz, they found themselves the fol- 
lowing Saturday 2 leagues from Cabo 
de la Cruz on account of the foul 
winds on a coast from north-northwest 
to south-southeast; and on shore they 
saw Indians in some very small canoes. 
The land is very lofty and bare and 
dry. All the land from the extremity 
of California to this place is sandy 
like the sea-beach. Here begins land 
of another character, as it is a country 
of beautiful vegetation and better ap- 
pearance, like orchards. 

Sunda}', on the seventeenth of the, 
said month, they set sail to pursue 
their voyage; and about 6 leagues 
from Cabo de la Cruz they found a good 
port well inclosed; and to arrive there 
they passed by a small island which is 
near the mainland. In this port they 
obtained water in a little pond of rain- . 
water; and there are groves resembling 
silk-cotton trees, except that it is a 
hardwood. They found thick and tall, 
trees which the sea brought ashore. 
This port was called San Mateo [San 
Diego Bay]. It is a good country in 
appearance. There are large cabins, 
and the herbage like that of Spain,. 



and the land is high and rugged. 
They saw herds of animals like flocks 
of sheep, which went together by the 
hundred or more, which resembled in 
appearance and movement Peruvian 
sheep, and with long wool. They 
have small horns of a span in length 
and as thick as the thumb, and the 
tail is broad and round and of the 
length of a palm. It is in t^s'A de- 
grees. They took possession of it. 
They were in this port until the fol- 
lowing Saturday. 

Saturday, the twenty-third of the 
said month, they departed from the 
said port of San Mateo, and sailed 
along the coast until the following 
Monday, in which time they made 
about 18 leagues. They saw very 
beautiful valleys and groves, and a 
country flat and rough, and they did 
not see Indians. 

On the Tuesday and Wednesday fol- 
lowing they sailed along the coast 
about 8 leagues, and passed by some 
three uninhabited islands. One of 
them is larger than the others, and ex- 
tends 2 entire leagues, and forms a 
shelter from the west winds. They 
are 3 leagues from the mainland; they 
are in 34 degrees. This day they saw 
on land great signal smokes. It is a 
good land in appearance, and there 
are great valleys, and in the interior 
there are high ridges. They called 
them Las Islas Desiertas (the Desert 

The Thursday following they pro- 
ceeded about 6 leagues by a coast run- 
ning north-northwest and discovered a 
port inclosed and very good, to which 
they gave the name of San Miguel 
[San Pedro Bay]. It is in 34^3 de- 
grees; and after anchoring in it they 
went on shore, which had people, 
three of whom remained and all the 
others fled. To these they gave some 
presents: and they said by signs that 
in the interior had passed people 
like the Spaniards. They manifested 
much fear. This same day at night 
they went on shore from the ships to 
fish with a net; and it appears that 
there were here some Indians, and 

they began to discharge arrows and 
wounded three men. 

The next day in the morning they 
entered further within the port, which 
is large, with the boat, and brought 
away two boys, who understood noth- 
ing by signs; and they gave them both 
shirts and immediately sent them 

And the following day in the morn- 
ing there came to the ship three large 
Indians; and by signs they said that 
there were traveling in the interior 
men like us, with beards, and clothed 
and armed like those of the ships; and 
they made signs that they carried 
crossbows and swords, and made ges- 
tures with the right arm as if they 
were throwing lances, and w^ent run- 
ning in a posture as if riding on horse- 
back, and made signs that they killed 
many of the native Indians, and that 
for this they were afraid. This people 
are well disposed and advanced; they 
go covered with the skins of animals. 
Being in this port there passed a very 
great tempest; but on account of the 
port's being good they sufiered noth- 
ing. It was a violent storm from the 
west-southwest and south-southwest. 
This is the first storm which they 
have experienced. They were in this 
port until the following Tuesday. 
Here Christians were called Guacamal. 
The following Tuesday, on the 3d 
day of the month of October, they 
departed from this port of San Miguel; 
and Wednesday and Thursday and 
Friday they proceeded on their course 
about eighteen leagues along the 
coast, on which they saw many valleys 
and much level ground and many 
large smokes, and, in the interior, 
sierras. They were at dusk near some 
islands, which are about seven leagues 
from the mainland; and because the 
wind was becalmed they could not 
reach them this night. 

Saturday, the 7th day of the month 
of October, they arrived at the islands 
at davbreak, which they named San 
Salvador [Santa Cruz] and La Vit- 
toria [Anacapa], and they anchored off 
one of them; and they went with the 



boat on shore to see if there were 
people there; and as the boat came 
near there issued a great quantity of 
Indians from among the bushes and 
grass, yelling and dancing and making 
signs that they should come ashore; 
and they saw that the women were 
running away; and from the boats 
they made signs that they should 
have no fear; and immediately they 
assumed confidence and laid on the 
ground their bows and arrows; and 
they launched a good canoe in the 
water, which held eight or ten In- 
dians, and they came to the ships. 
They gave them beads and little pres- 
ents, with which they were delighted, 
and they presently went away. The 
Spaniards afterwards went ashore and 
were very secure, they and the Indian 
women and all. Here an old Indian 
made signs to them that on the main- 
land men were journeying, clothed 
and with beards like the Spaniards. 
They were in this island only until 

The following Sunday, on the eighth 
of the said month, they came near the 
mainland in a great bay, which they 
named I^a Bahia de los Funios [Bahia 
Ona Bay; recently named Monica Bay] 
on account of the numerous smokes 
which they saw upon it. Here they 
held intercourse with some Indians, 
whom they took in a canoe, who made 
signs that towards the north there 
were Spaniards like them. This bay 
is in 35 degrees; and it is a good port; 
and the country is good, with many 
valleys and plains and trees. 

The following Monday, on the 9th 
day of the said month of October, 
they departed from La Bahia de los 
Fumos, and proceeded this day about 
6 leagues, and anchored in a large in- 
let [laguna near Point Mugu]; and 
they passed on thence the following 
day, Tuesday, and proceeded about 8 
leagues on a coast northwest and 
southeast; and we saw on the land a 
village of Indians near the sea and 
the houses large in the manner of of New Spain ; and they anchored 
in front of a very large valley on the 

coast. Here came to the ships many 
very good canoes, which held in each 
one twelve or thirteen Indians; and 
they gave them notice of Christians 
who were journeying in the interior. 
The coast is from northwest to south- 
east. Here they gave them some 
presents, with which they were much 
pleased. They made signs that in 
.seven days they could go where the 
Spaniards were traveling; and Juan 
Rodriguez was determined to .send two 
Spaniards to the interior. They also 
made signs that there was a great 
river. With these Indians they sent a 
letter at a venture to the Christians. 
They gave name to this village of el 
Pueblo de las Canoas (the Village 
of Canoes). [Near Buenaventura. 
" Pueblo de las Canoas" has usually 
been identified with Santa Barbara, 
but the distance places it below that 
point, while the beautiful valley de- 
scribed certainly does not apply to the 
location of Santa Barbara, which can 
scarcely be said to be in a valley at all. 
The Santa Clara Valley and mountains 
agree exactly with the description.] 
They go covered with some .skins of 
animals; they are fi.shers and eat the 
fish raw; they also eat agaves. This 
village is in 35^^ degrees. The coun- 
try within is a very beautiful valley; 
and they made signs that there was in 
that valley much maize and much 
food. There appear within this val- 
ley some sierras very high, and the 
land is very rugged. They call the 
Christians Taquimine. Here they 
took possession; here they remained 
until Friday, the thirteenth day of the 
said month. 

Friday, the 13th day of the .said 
month of October, they departed from 
Pueblo de las Canoas on their voyage, 
and proceeded this day 6 or 7 leagues, 
and passed two large islands which 
extend 4 leagues each one, and are 4 
leagues from the continent. They are 
uninhabited, there is no water 
in them [the account is doubtless in er- 
ror here; these islands must be identi- 
cal with others mentioned farther on as 
inhabited]; and they have good ports. 



The coast of the mainland runs west- 
northwest; the country is level, with 
many cabins and trees; and the follovv- 
ing Saturday they continued on their 
course, and proceeded 2 leagues, no 
more; and they anchored opposite a 
valley very beautiful and very pop- 
ulous, the land being level with many 
trees. Here came canoes with fish to 
barter; they remained great friends. 

And the Sunday following, the fif- 
teenth day of the said month, they 
held on their voyage along the coast 
about ID leagues; and there were al- 
ways many canoes, for all the coast is 
very populous; and many Indians were 
continually coming aboard the ships; 
and they pointed out to us the villages 
and named them by their names, 
which are Xucu, Bis, Sopono, Alloc, 
Xabaagua, Xotococ, Potoltuc, Nac- 
buc, Quelqueme, Misinagua, Miseso- 
pano, Elquis, Coloc, Mugu, Xagua, 
Anacbuc, Partocac, Susuquey, Quan- 
mu, Gua, Asinui, Aguin, Casalic, 
Tucumu, Incpupu. x\ll these villages 
extend from the first, Pueblo de las 
Canoas, which is called Xucu, as far 
as this place; they are in a very good 
country, with very good plains and 
many trees and cabins; they go 
clothed with skins; they said that in- 
land there were many towns, and 
much maize at three days' distance; 
they call the maize oep; and also 
that there were many cows. They 
call the cows cae; they also gave us 
notice of some people with beards and 
clothed. They passed this day along 
the shore of a large island which is 15 
leagues in length; and they said that 
it was very populous, and that it con- 
tained the following villages: Niqui- 
pos, Maxul, Xugua, Nitel, Macamo, 
Nimitopal. They named the island 
San Lucas [Santa Rosa]; it is from 
this place to Pueblo de las Canoas 18 
leagues; the island is from the conti- 
nent 6 leagues. 

Monday, the sixteenth day of the 
said month, sailing along the coast 
they proceeded 4 leagues, and an- 
chored in the evening opposite two 
villages [Dos Pueblos]; and also this 

day canoes were continually coming 
to the ships; and they made signs that 
further on there were canoes much 

The Tuesday following, the seven- 
teenth day of the said month, they 
proceeded 3 leagues with fair weather; 
and there were with the ship from day- 
break many canoes; and the Captain 
continually gave them many presents; 
and all this coast where they have 
passed is very populous; they brought 
them a large quantity of fresh sardines 
very good; they say that inland there 
are many villages and much food; 
these did not eat any maize; they 
went clothed with skins, and wear 
their hair very long and tied up with 
cords very long and placed within the 
hair; and these strings have many 
small daggers attached of flint and 
wood and bone [many of which were 
excavated by the survey party in 1875, 
from the graves]. The land is very 
excellent in appearance. 

Wednesday, the eighteenth day of 
the said month, they went running 
along the coast until ten o'clock, and 
saw all the coast populous; and be- 
cause a fresh wind sprung up canoes 
did not come. They came near a 
point which forms a cape like a galley, 
and they named it Cabo de Galera 
[Point Concepcion], and it is in a lit- 
tle over 36 degrees; and because there 
was a fresh northwest wind they stood 
off from the shore and discovered two 
islands, the one large, which has 8 
leagues of coast running east and west 
[Santa Rosa, but with only 5 leagues 
of coast running as described]; the 
other has 4 leagues [San Miguel, with 
only 2 leagues]; and in this small one 
there is a good port [Cuyler's Har- 
bor], and they are peopled; they are 
!«:) leagues from the continent; they 
are called Las Islas de San Lucas. 
[The name is here applied to but two 
islands, but subsequently the whole 
group af»pears to have been thus 
designated.] From the mainland to 
Cabo de Galera it runs west by north- 
east; and from Pueblo de las Canoas 
to Cabo de Galera there is a very 

J 08 


populous province, and the}^ call it 
Xexu; it has man)^ languages differ- 
ent from each other; the}- have many 
great wars with each other; it is from 
El Pueblo de las Canoas to El Cabo 
de Galera 30 leagues; they were in 
these islands until the following Wed- 
nesda\', because it was very stormj-. 

Wednesday, the twentj^-fifth of the 
said month, they departed from the 
said islands, from the one which was 
more to the windward; it has a very 
good port, so that from all the storms 
of the sea no damage will be suffered 
b}' those within its shelter; they called 
it La Posesion [San Miguel previously 
with Santa Rosa called Las Islas de 
San Lucas]. This day they advanced 
little, as the wind was not favorable; 
and in the middle of the following 
night they had a wind south-south- 
west and west-southwest, with rain, 
so that they saw themselves in diffi- 
culty; for it was a side wind and they 
were near the land, and they could 
not double the cape on one side or the 
other [they were probabh- between 
Point Arguello and Concepcion]; and 
the following Thursday at vespers the 
wind sheered off to the south; and 
they proceeded on their course 10 
leagues on a coast running north- 
northwest and south-southeast; all 
this coast is inhabited and in appear- 
ance good land. This night they kept 

out to sea, for they had a side wind; 
and the Friday and Saturday and Sun- 
day following they were beating about 
from one side to the other with foul 
winds and could gain nothing; and 
they were in 36^^ degrees, 10 leagues 
from Cabo de Galera [off San Luis 
Obispo]; and in the same manner 
they held on Monday and Tuesday to 
the thirty-first day of the said month, 
the eve of All Saints' Day, beating 
about on one side and the other; and 
they wished to approach the mainland 
in search of a great river of which they 
had notice, which was on the other 
side of Cabo de Galera, and because 
there were on land many marks of 
rivers, and they found no river. [The 
great river for which they were con- 
stantly on the watch, and of which 
they evidently received confused and 
perplexing accounts from the Indians, 
was probably the Colorado. Its prox- 
imity renders certain the supposition 
that the Indians were well aware of 
the wonderful river, its whereabouts 
being evidently wholly misinterpreted 
by the Spaniards.] Nor did they 
anchor here, for the coast was ven;^ 
bold. They found during this month 
on this coast the weather as in Spain, 
from 34 degrees and upwards, and with 
much cold mornings and evenings, 
and with storms, dark and cloudy 
weather, and the air heavy. 

{To be conii)iiied.) 

BELIEVING that the late President Balma- 
ceda was a tyrant, the sjnnpathies of the 
American people were with the Congressional 
party. This became well known to the latter, 
and it was the reason why by vigorous efforts 
they hoped to be recognized by our Government. 
A large class of our people would have been 
glad to have such a step taken, and there were 
not a few who felt that the Government had 
neglected to do what was a duty and an act in 
the interest of popular and good government. 

Whatever may have been the personal sympa- 
thies of President Harrison and Secretary 
Blaine, they were bound to act in accordance 
with international law. Our Government was 
at peace with Chile and held diplomatic rela- 
tions with the regularly and fairly constituted 
authorities. The Congressional party was gov- 
erned by a Junta, not chosen by the people, but 
self-constituted in a sense. The Junta or Insur- 
gent Government had no capital, and was in 
possession of but a part of the country. The 
regularly constituted Government was complete 
in organization, and exercised its functions at 
the capital of the nation . It was not the duty of 
our Government to institute an investigation 
into the merits of the controversy and decide 
which side was in the right; and, what is more, 
there are no precedents which would justify 
such a proceeding in such a case. While in sym- 
pathy with those who are struggling against op- 
pression, and for good government, it cannot 
disregard regularity of government, nor the in- 
jury to general interests by encouraging or too 
quickly giving countenance to revolutions by 
force, and especially in countries whose citizens 
have the power to revolutionize through the 
agency of the peaceful ballot. 

The late Confederacy in this countrj' had an 
organized government in all branches; it was 
able to enforce obedience in one-third of the 
States in area; and for two years it had the best 
of the war : yet its independence was not 
recognized by the great nations of Europe, 
though the interests of two at least would have 

been promotedby thesucce.ssof the Confederacy, 
and they gave to it their utmost moral support. 
Taking that case as a precedent, how futile 
were the arguments in favor of our Government 
granting recognition to the Chilean Congres- 
sional party until it became successful in over- 
throwing the government of Balmaceda. When 
that event happened recognition was speedily 
awarded; nothing else could be done because 
the Junta became the government de facto, and 
the only one that had any existence in that 
country. It is not impossible that a new revolu- 
tionary movement will be made against the ex- 
isting government. Should it occur, the party 
in power will be able to see the propriety and 
justice of the course pursued by our Govern- 
ment. The anger of the Chileans is a spasm, 
and will pass away as soon as the rejoicing 
over the victory that has been achieved subsides. 
The talk of war is absurd. No threats from 
any source will cause our great and just Govern- 
ment to swerve from the path that international 
law points out; nor will it lower its dignity or 
yield any of its just rights under any circum- 
stances whatever. This country- will not pro- 
voke war, unless protecting our citizens has that 
effect. The disparity of numbers, resources and 
power between the two nations is immense, — a 
fact which suggests forbearance on our part; but 
generosity on that or any other account cannot 
go so far as to neglect the duty the Government 
owes to its own citizens. They must be protected 
whether an offending nation is great or small. 

The Results of the Labor Congress which sat 
in Germany in October were disappointing to 
the extreme element, but encouraging to the 
cause of rational progress. It is an impulse of 
the radical and revolutionary to go too fast and 
to resort to violence as a means of accomplish- 
ing an end. The governments in Europe are to 
a greater or less extent maintained by forces; 
and they are less influenced by popular opinion 
than in this country, and hence movements 



towards the 1 iberation and elevation of the masses 
are slower than here. The radical and impetu- 
ous do not stop to reflect upon the fact that 
they are in no position to hold contest with large 
and disciplined armies. In England discussion 
is toletated to any extent short of the displace- 
ment of the hereditary sovereign, but in Ger- 
many it is much more restiicted. Respect for 
popular opinion, however, is increasing in that 
country, and in fact in most of the European 
States. The moderates in the late Labor Con- 
gress seemed to be fully aware that unsuccess- 
ful revolution results in the imposition of greater 
restraints, and that progress is surer if gradual. 
The course pursued by the majority in that 
congress was wise, because it will not provoke 
the adoption of repressive measures. While 
labor agitation is growing more and more ex- 
tensive throughout the civilized world it is con- 
ducted on more conservative lines; atjd for that 
reason the rights of labor will be more generally 
respected, and all that labor deserves will be 
more quickly conceded. The power of the labor 
element in this country is greater than ever be- 
fore, because methods of enforcing rights are 
more in conformity to just principles. These 
methods assure success, but a resort to violent 
and indefensible methods would bring disrepute 
and failure. Popular opinion in the United 
States is the governing power; and the labor 
element is able to control to anyjust extent if de- 
fensible means only are resorted to in pressing 
its demands. The best and most durable revolu- 
tions are wrought through discussion in which 
all classes may freely participate. 

The article in the present issue of Thk Cali- 
FORNIAN, — the first in a series on the Chinese, 
— is a notable one in several respects. It is the 
first complete expos€ of the secret societies of 
the Chinese ever made ; and the pubHeation, 
two years ago, when the highbinders were in 
power in San Francisco, would, undoubtedly, 
have been followed by the murder of the author 
upon his first appearance on the streets of the 
Chinese quarter. The secrets of the high- 
binders are exposed, not to satisfy public curios- 
ity, but to enable the Government, State munic- 
ipal and national, to deal more intelligently with 
the question. 

Chinese questions are just now absorbing a 
large share of public interest. In China events 
are transpiring of momentous importance. The 
riots and massacres of the last six months have 
now culminated in a rebellion that may result 
in the greatest upheaval of modern times. 

In San Francisco Chinatown the condition of 
affairs is very serious. A deadly highbinder 
feud has been raging for several weeks, in which 

a number of Chinese have been killed. It is 
well known that the disturbances in China and 
in San Francisco are the work of secret socie- 
ties. The publication of the paper referred to 
at this time is therefore most opportune : first, 
in giving the public the most authentic and 
exhaustive account of Chinese secret societies 
yet published ; and, second, in showing the 
relationship between the highbinder societies 
of California and those great revolutionary 
societies of China that have thrown the whole 
empire into a ferment. 

These secret societies in California have grown 
of late years to gigantic proportions. Twenty 
or more societies have established a reign of 
terror in San Francisco that has become insuf- 
ferable. Many respectable Chinese have become 
enforced members. Despairing of seeing the 
societies suppressed by law they have found it 
safer to make terms of peace. Assassination 
and acts of violence are occurring With a fre- 
quency that startles even California. Men are 
shot down in broad daylight, and the murderer 
usually escapes. It is well for both races that 
the highbinder prudently avoids making targets 
of while men, and that nearly all his victims 
are bloody men who would, in nine cases out of 
ten, never meet their deserts in a court of law. 
A singular circumstance of the recent feud is 
that neither party will give information to the 
police to incriminate a foe. Like two quarrel- 
some schoolboys they want to be let alone to 
fight it out to the bitter end. Eye-witnesses of 
a murder are afraid of the Tongs ; and they too 
are silent. The Chinese Consulate and the Six 
Companies want to .see the Tongs crushed ; and 
the great majority of Chinese in the settlement 
long for emancipation from a tyranny so galling. 
If the Consul-General had extra territorial 
powers such as our Consuls have in China many 
hundreds would, no doubt, be deported for exe- 
cution in China, and the trouble would end. 
The present condition of affairs must not be 
allowed; and yet how the police are to suppress 
the societies under our laws is a problem. If 
the Chinese Government, with despotic power, 
has been unable to cope with secret societies in 
China, it is hardly to be expected that the police 
of San Francisco, ignorant of the Chine&e lan- 
guage, and with their hands tied by constitu- 
tional law, should meet with better success 
here. It was hoped that after the vigorous 
action of the police in breaking up their halls 
of meeting last February the power of high- 
binderism would be checked. It is evident, 
however, from recent events that no permanent 
results have been achieved. In Singapore, after 
long years of struggle with the secret societies 
of that colony, the British Government have 
enacted legislation that deals with them very 



effectually. We are informed that a specially 
appointed official who understands the Chinese 
language ferrets the criminals out; and they are 
immediately deported. The attention of our 
local grand jury should be directed to this mon- 
strous iniquity in our midst ; and, if our present 
laws are inadequate, for Heaven's sake let us 
have laws that will reach them and courts that 
will punish them as they deserve. That three 
trials should have been necessary to send the 
notorious highbinder L,ee Chuck to San Quentin 
reveals a state of corruption that is a disgrace 
to a civilized Stale. 

One of the important questions which the 
next Congress will in all probability consider 
will be the protection of the forests which con- 
stitute the charm of the upper Sierra of Califor- 
nia and have so important a bearing upon the 
water supply of the Pacific Slope. California is 
conceded to be one of the most productive States 
in the Union. Nature has been most prodigal in 
this respect; yet it is within the power of man 
to seriously interfere with this. Water is king in 
this State, and the source of supply cannot be too 
safely watched. In the past the forests have 
been cut down with unsparing hand. Giants 
which have been growing for centuries have 
been burnt and destroyed in wanton sport by van- 
dals. Entire forests covering miles have been 
consumed by the careless act of the hunter or 
camper,all this in spite of the watchful care of the 
State guardians and those in authority. The im- 
portance of the forests of the upper range to the 
farmer of the lowland cannot be overestimated; 

the rancher depends upon the water supply, and 
the water in turn depends upon the forests. To 
the Californian ranchman the question of irriga- 
tion is all important; and if the National Govern- 
ment is to discuss the question of the preservation 
of the forests it should be the duty of every 
citizen to look up the subject and watch well 
the action of Congress and influence it in the 
right direction. The ranchman will be called 
upon to answer whether he is satisfied with the 
present water supply. As one of the questions 
which will be brought up in Congress is whether 
the Government should increase its fo'^est reser- 
vations and have a larger control over the forest 
land, — opinions differ upon this point; but there 
can be but one outcome. The question of irriga- 
tion is all important. Water is needed in greater 
quantity and at cheaper rates. It has been 
shown that the Government can protect the for- 
ests; and undoubtedly it is better equipped to 
afford such protection than the State; and few 
having the real interests of the commonwealth 
at heart will object to any movement tending to 
the preservation of the forests. The develop- 
ment of water and the formation of irrigation 
companies all over the State is suggestive of the 
interest taken in the question at this time ; and it 
is the object of the writer not to express opin- 
ions upon the subject, but to urge the people of 
the State to give the topic the attention it dc- 
seI'^•es. In the next issue of ThE Californian 
will appear an illustrated article on the forests of 
California, by a member of the Forestry Com- 
mission of the State, which will throw some 
light upon the subject. 

''PHE most important work of recent issues is 
1 a compilation and digest by Dr. Karl 
Schucliardt, treating- of Dr. Schliemann's exca- 
vations in Greece. In the vSan Francisco Bul- 
letin no'ilow^ since it stated that Dr. Schliemann 
was a resident of California at the time of its 
admission into the Union, and that it was in 
California that the foundation was laid for the 
fortune that enabled Schliemann to carry on his 
great archaeological explorations. 

Certain it is that no man of the present cen- 
tury has done as much as Dr. Schliemann to aid 
history to pick up its broken and lost threads, 
while to the compiler of this last and most com- 
prehensive work on the subject we owe the 
tribute of having given the world the interpreta- 
tion to many discoveries for which Schliemann 
simply provided the data. 

Archaeology has taken a marvelously strong 
hold upon the interest of the people within the 
past few years. Even in California, where the 
newness has effectually shut us off from the in- 
fluences that are the result of constant contact 
with the man-made monuments of countless 
past centuries,— even here we find men and 
women gone mad over Indian relics, fossil re- 
mains, rock inscriptions and geologic forma- 
tions. But it is a promising madness, for it 
feeds the sentiment and at the same time takes 
the miserable and dwarfing egotism out of the 
common heart. 

Theodore Child's many delightful papers on 
art and criticism that have been appearing in 
Hai'per's Magazine during the past year have 
been bound and amplified somewhat for per- 
manent library use. The author's disregard for 
fixed mechanical "schools" and his incisive 
style in writing make him not only a forcible 
critic but an agreeable and instructive one as 
well. Any one who has ever frequented the 
studios of America and Europe, and watched 
the painful struggles of hundreds of young 
people of both sexes who were valiantly trying 
to learn to "do" heads, or flowers, or land- 
scapes, while the frantic master of art wasted 
his vitality in ineffectual and uncomprehended 
explanations, will appreciate Child's statement 
that "No one can ever be taught to see nature, 

to feel nature, and to express it. The painter of 
genius will show you how he applies the brush, 
saying, 'see how I doit; go and do likewise, 
and may God help you! ' And if God does not 
help you, your painting will not be worth talk- 
ing about. The really great painters are their 
own masters. They are men of rare and special 
temperament; and through this temper they 
look at nature and see beautiful personal visions 
such as none have ever before beheld." 

The author then takes up at length the great 
masters of art of all periods and subjects their 
work to the most subtle analysis. Taken all in 
all, the book is one that should find a prominent 
place in the library of every lover of art. 

Sometime during the coming year we shall 
present to our readers a new writer, fresh from 
the very heart of Maryland. As a writer she is 
as magnetic in thought as Olive Schreiner, and 
as unique in style as Emily Dickinson. She is 
poetic, undisciplined, a lover of nature in all its 
moods, outspoken, and wholly untrammeled 
by any other canons of art than those deter- 
mined by real creative power. She is a writer; 
she paints with both water colors and oils; she 
models quaint types in clay, and carves in wood 
with the touch of genius. Some of the editors 
of the leading American periodicals have writ- 
ten to her acknowledging the vigor of her work, 
and expressing a sincere regret that some 
pioneer precedent did not give them the cour- 
age to present her to their readers. 

Porter & Coates have just issued a most 
beautiful edilion de luxe of Carlyle's "French 
Revolution," illustrated with sixty photogra- 
vures. This is a grateful change from the era 
of holiday booklets and souvenirs. If one is 
disposed to gather together an expensive 
library he will ignore the ephemeral booklet, 
and turn with delight to the edition de luxe 
of the standard works. Almost every one enjoys 
reading a well-bound, clearly printed and at- 
tractively illustrated book. We are, unfortu- 
nately, creatures of such insufficient and dwarfish 
imagination thatwe demand the supplementary 



aid of pictures galore to fully round out the con- 
lour of any story in our minds. And how many 
good books poor cuts have killed 1 

Who does not recall with a shock of honor the 
red and gold editions of Meredith's "Lucille," 
in which the illustrations represent the heroine 
as a lean, cadaverous spinster with a sour face; 
the Duke as the worst kind of a third-rate heavy 
villain; and poor Matilda standing before a 
mirror,' looking as though a buzz-saw had 
planed off the back of her head and waist, leav- 
ing a sort of paper doll, plane figure, without 
any appreciable dimeusion save those of flat 
surface, height and raw edge ? This year the 
Frederick Stokes Company has issued an edition 
of standard poets, Meredith being represented 
by Lucille. The series is printed on heavy 
calendered paper, and embellished with hun- 
dreds of exquisite wash drawings reproduced in 
half-tone in the Frenchiest style. The binding 
has a white vellum back, and covers of delicate 
silk the motif of which is the pink and the 
lavender cyclamen. 

issued regularly every month, in uniform style 
and averaging about the same length. 

Binding does make such a deep impres- 
sion upon the public mind ! I have often heard 
people speak of our own Jerry Lynch's " Egyp- 
tian Sketches" and say that it was a real delight, 
a sensuous pleasure, to feel its smoolh, rich, 
heavy London binding. 

The title of "Atlantis Arisen," a new book 
by Fiances Fuller Victor, gives no clue to the 
text until one reaches the concluding paragraph 
of the work. In reality it is a handsomely illus- 
trated volume on the history, resources, growth 
and possibilities of the State of Oregon, written 
by a woman who thoroughly appreciates the 
necessity of accurac}' and incisiveness when 
l)icturing the superior advantages of a new 
country to a prospective homeseeker. Mrs. Vic- 
tor has a poetic sentiment which enables her to 
clothe the dryest facts, of such a work as this, 
with a most alluiing and picturesque garment. 

The element of wholesome comedy is so sel- 
dom found in current literature that one turns 
with real rest and delight to Frank Stockton's 
stories, not the least interesting one of which is 
"The Squirrel Inn," and its curious but alto- 
gether lovable f?;awa/«^ /'<?''.ro?Z(2-. Unlike the 
tantalizing plot of "The Lady or the Tiger," 
this one is evolved as all proper plots should 
be: The right people marry and the wrong ones 
meet their j ust deserts. 

Mrs. Flora Haines Loughead is perhaps one of 
the best known among the California writers of 
short stories'. She is a member of the London 
Society of Authors, being admitted on the 
strength of her story, "The Man Who Was 
Guilty," which had such a run in England. 
She is an indefatigable worker, and so closely 
does she devote herself to her writing and to 
lier happy domestic life that she may be said 
to live the life of a recluse, as far as society and 
the public are concerned. Mrs. Loughead has 
■A pleasant face, gray eyes that are always dreamy 
with thought, a low, broad and full brow, a firm 
chin and mouth, and an ivory complexion, sel- 
dom tinged with even the faintest pink. Just at 
present she is living in Santa Barbara, where 
she hopes to find the soft, equable climate bene- 
ficial to her invalid husband. Houghton, Mif- 
flin and Company of Boston have recently 
issued a story from her pen called "The Aban- 
doned Claim," which seems to be meeting with 
much favor. C. A. Murdock and Company of 
San Francisco have also issued one of her 
stories for the holidays called " The Man From 
Nowhere." This little book is the first of a 
series of short stories by the same author, to be 

We are glad to read the announcement of 
another book by the author of " Standish of 
Standish." The new one is entitled "Betty 
Alden," and, like its predecessor, treats of the 
charming side of early Puritan life in New 

"The Warwickshire Avon" is another of the 
year's holiday issues that deserves special men- 
tion. Arthur T. Quiller Couch has furnished 
the delightful reading matter, and Alfred Par- 
sons has made the beautiful illustrations. Par- 
sons has a peculiar talent for reproducing these 
quiet English scenes with a depth of sentiment 
and a simple vigor of touch that no other artist 
of the present time can equal. 

A correspondent sends us an anecdote con- 
cerning the name and fame of Edward Bellamy 
that may not come amiss in this department. 
Not long since, a certain gentleman, not un- 
known to fame, went to the door of a little sum- 
mer hotel on the shores of Long Island Sound 
and made some inquiries regarding some cot- 
tages that were for rent. He also requested 
that supper might be served to him immediately, 
as he was famishing. The landlady of the house 
is notorious for the impulsiveness of her speech 
and for the eccentricities of her manner, and is 



as much of a character in her way as is Stock- 
ton's Stephen Patter. She was very non- 
committal about her husband's cottages, and 
absolutely refused to get the guest any supper. 
Supperless and not a little incensed, the gen- 
tleman took his hat and his departure, and in 
the deepening twilight sought a more hospitable 
haven. No sooner had he gone, however, than 
the landlady flung a shawl over her head, and 
running to her next door neighbor's, breath- 
lessly said, ' ' You can't guess who has j ust been 
to see me ! " "Who was it?" asked theneigh- 
bor. " Oh," replied the landlady "one of them 
big bugs that writes books and things; — that 
man that eveiybody has been talking about 
lately. You know — What's his name ! He 
wrote a book, ' Out and Back, by Bella- 
donna I' " 

haps it is because imitation is so much easier 
than original investigation or than creation ! 

Ella Sterling Cummins is furnishing the San 
Francisco IVasp with a series of articles on 
the writers of California. She is including not 
only the writers known to fame, but those who, 
perhaps, produced but one or two good pieces 
of work. She says that in collecting her data 
one fatal lack has been noticeable in the work 
of almost all of the writers, and that is the lack 
of local color. The thoughts expressed are those 
belonging to common humanity, and not those 
developed by any peculiar or striking local 
environments. Some few writers have caught 
the spirit of the impressive Sierra, the long 
stretches of fog-kissed sand dunes along the 
coast, the hot, arid San Joaquin and Sacramento 
Valley plains, the desolated Missions, the 
deserted mining camps, the curious fellowship 
of pine and palm, and all that; but too many 
have been content to dedicate sonnets to ideal 
goddesses, to write of dukes and duchesses, or 
to describe heather patches and English uplands 
or lowlands that they have never" seen. It is 
so inherent in the human race to imitate ; per- 

"Zanthon," a novel by James Doran, recently 
published by the Bancroft Company, is a case in 
point. The author has laid his scenes in a coun- 
try of which he knows almost nothing; he has not 
even made a .study of the period of which he 
writes; and his characters show him to be but a 
superficial observer of the common life about 
him. Yet his work indicates an inborn talent, 
that,- properly developed, might have become a 
real power. In a vague, nebulous way he sees 
many of the weaknesses of man and society, 
with a vision not corroded with bitterness but 
barbed with good-humored wit. He has deep 
sentiment too, but it loses .strength by being 
diverted to unfamiliar objects. 

1. " Dr. Schliemann's Excavations at Troy, 
Tyrns, Mycenae, Orchomenos and Ithaca." Dr. 
Karl Schuchardt. McMillan. $4 00. 

2. "Art and Criticism." Theodore Child. 
Harper & Brothers. $6.00. 

3. " Carlyle's French Revolution." Porter & 

4. "Lucille." Owen Meredith 
Stokes Company. $1.50. 

5. "The Abandoned Claim." 
Loughead. Houghton, Mifflin 

6. "The Man from Nowhere." Flora Haines 
I<oughead. C. A. Murdock & Co. 25 cents. 

Frederick A. 

Flora Haines 
& Company. 

7. " Atlantis Arisen.' 
I^ippincott. $1.50. 

8. "The Squirrel 
Century Company. : 

9. " Betty Alden." 
Mifflin & Company. 

Frances Fuller Victor. 

Frank Stockton. 


Jane Austen. Houghton, 

ic. "The Warwickshire Avon." A. T. Quil- 
ler Couch. Harper & Brothers. $2.50. 

II. " Zanthon." James Doran. Bancroft Com- 
pany. $1.25. 

The Californian. 

Vol. I. 

FEBRUARY, 1892. 

No. 3. 


By Abbot Kinney. 

VERY true man 
loves the forest. 
? The gnarled 
oak, the stiff, 
slim pine and 
colossal Sequoia 
each has for the 
forester a story, 
a character and 
a confidence. The leafy shades and 
the bosky dell have their delights of 
silence and solitude. On the upland 
ridge the breezes clash the needles of 
the tall old pines high in the air. To 
the lover listening below it is a sweet 
song of sorrow borne to him on a fra- 
grant breath. To the forest rambler 
California opens a new field of inter- 
est. Its forest flora is quite distinct 
from that of the rest of the world; and 
the general appearance of the Califor- 
nia woods is altogether different from 
that of any forest elsewhere. 

One of the points attracting curious 
consideration in our forests is the num- 
ber of trees restricted in their native 
habitat to a few acres of ground and 
found naturally nowhere else on the 
globe. Who has not heard of the 
giant Sequoia ? Who has not heard of 
its girth and its grandeur, of its won- 
derful bark like the velvet of Lyons, 
and the towering stretch of its arms 
to the azure ? 

These great trees are now, at least 
intellectually, the property of the 
world. Eike all great things, descrip- 
tion may so paint them in free fancy's 
breadth that, to the thus attracted vis- 
itor they are a disappointment. Many 

of man's great monuments have dis- 
appointed me and left a regret that I 
had ever exchanged the picture of my 
imagination for a reality far inferior. 
I have never and can never forgive 
to Rome the disappointment it gave 
me. Romulus and the she wolf for 
nurse, the good Numa and the cruel 
Tarquin, the Horatii and the Curatii 
in their desperate fight, the defense of 
the bridge, Cato, Pompey and great 
Caesar, w^hose death was no physic for 
the sick republic, and then the long 
line of emperors graced with IMarcus 
Aurelius and cursed with Nero, to the 
Goths and fall of empire, then the 
Popes, the pestilence, Rienzi like a 
ray of light, then Popes and grandest 
ritual to deck their wondrous power, 
and Rafael and Michael Angelo, and 
then new Italy and its king; — all 
these and many more had been play- 
ing artists in my brain, and had there 
painted and set up a Rome that made 
me long to see the real Eternal City. 
But all my great town, except the 
Coliseum alone, crumbled to dust when 
I touched it. Not that it was not great 
and interesting, but that it in no way 
matched my creation. After wander- 
ing about in tombs and churches and 
narrow Italian streets, not Roman 
ones, for ten long days, I left Rome and 
never wish to set foot within its gates 
again. The great trees may thus dis- 
appoint some of those who travel by 
tourist ticket and who see them but 
for a few passing moments. You can 
not see them so. Every day that you 
are with them they will grow on you. 




They are in this respect like Niagara. 
One must be with them for a time to 
understand their greatness and appre- 
ciate their age. 

Perhaps the two things about these 
trees that most impress the passing 
traveler are the house on the stump of 
one great tree and the driveway cut 
in another through which a four-in- 
hand, loaded on top as well as inside, 
can drive without crowding. As 
the drag passes where the heart of 
the tree once was it is directly under 
the green and living top hundreds of 
feet nearer the .sky. 

These big trees, together with a 
number of other species, now only 
found in California, were once widely 
distributed. Fossil remains of some 
of them have been found even in the 
frozen soil of Greenland. Their ex- 
tinction in other parts of the world 
seems sadl}^ enough to be their destiny 
in California. 

The mild and equable climate of this 
State has perpetuated them long after 
less favorable conditions have super- 
vened elsewhere to make the environ- 
ment fatal to their life. 

The condition which is preventing, 
in all probability, their reproduction in 
California, is a progressive diminution 
of humidity in the air. 

Humboldt is the first who remarked 
on this condition. One rarely sees a 
wild seedling Sequoia of either vari- 
ety, a seedling Sugar Pine {Pimis 
Lambertiana) or Monterey Cypress 
{Cupressus Macrocarpa). This is also 
true of the Torrey Pine, the Wild 
Cherry of Catalina and of many of our 
trees and shrubs ; while on the other 
hand there is a strong reproductive 
power in others of the California trees 
such as the Douglas Spruce, Monterey 
Pine, several of the oaks, etc. 

Speaking generally, the trees that 
are dying out through non-reproduc- 
tion have small seeds with a minimum 
of stored food for the seedling, while 
those that are taking their place have 
large seeds with an ample store of 
nourishment for the baby plant to 
carry it through the long dry season. 

The seeds of the two great Sequoias 
are exceedingly small and light, a fact 
the more notable on account of the 
great size of the parent trees. The 
seeds of all these species that are los- 
ing ground are fertile in themselves, 
and with proper care come up as freely 
and evenly in the nursery of the gar- 
dener as do those of the others; but in 
the struggle for existence on the moun- 
tains and plains thej' are unable to 
cope with the changing climate, or 
with the newer and better adapted 

Several groves of the Sequoia Gigan- 
tea or Big Trees are found in Cali- 
fornia. This great tree is now native 
only to California, and in this State is 
confined to one range of mountains, 
the Sierra Nevada. The largest grove 
is a true forest, and lies back of Fresno 
in the southern Sierra. 

The largest tree in the world has 
only recently been found. It is a Se- 
quoia gigantea and measures i6o feet 
in circumference at the highest point a 
man can reach from the ground. This 
tree stands in a small valley sur- 
rounded by precipices at the head- 
waters of the Kaweah River. The 
situation of this greatest tree is most 
appropriate. It stands in the midst 
of the grandest scenery in the Union. 
Around it tower snowy peaks twelve, 
fourteen and fifteen thousand feet 
above the sea. Forests spread over 
the hills and mountains and from them 
rush the rollick in g rivers through rocky 
ravine and gorge, tumultuously tum- 
bling in youth only to emerge in ma- 
turer mind to the valleys for the 
serious work of irrigation. 

On one side of this great Sierra lies 
a fertile valley of California, where the 
grain fields are being replaced by the 
vine and fruit-tree through irrigation; 
on the other side to the east is a valley 
1 20 feet below the level of the sea, with 
a salt lake receiving but not sending 
out water. Beyond this the country 
stretches desolate to the deserts of 

An interesting feature of the eastern 
side of the Sierra is the abruptness of 

■ -'.{'■■ ■ .r V" 

-■^ ^-"^-.%it3f- 

Giant Sequoia "Wawona,'' 28 Feet in Diameter, 275 Feet High, Mariposa Grove. 



its rise from the valley below sea-level. 
The increase of height within a dis- 
tance of five miles is more rapid and 
more considerable at this place and at 
San Jacinto Mountain above the Colo- 
rado desert, than anj^where else in the 
world. The effectiveness of the moun- 
tains is correspondingly increased. 

The slow but sure disappearance of 
these magnificent monarchs of the for- 
est is a lesson the people of New Eng- 
land might well take to heart. The vital 
statistics of the native stock in that 
section shows a death rate higher than 
the birth rate. The birth rate of a sta- 
tionary population is about one in 
thirty-eight, that of France. The New 
England birth rate amongst the na- 
tives is now estimated at less than one 
in fortj-five. 

Should this condition continue the 
disappearance from the world of this 
forceful, moral and intellectual race is 

A beautiful tree is a poem and a 
thing of joy. Perhaps the tree that 
combines best beauty and grandeur is 
the brother of the giant Sequoia, the 
lovel}^ and impressive Redwood. The 
Sequoia sempervirens is confined also 
to one range of mountains, the Coast 
Range near the Pacific Ocean. While 
vast forests of it exist and to-day form 
the lumber resource of California, the 
Redwood is not reproducing itself, but 
is being replaced as it is cut and 
burned away by other and less notable 
trees. It has one very exceptional 
trait for a conifer which is doing much 
to retard its disappearance. The Red- 
wood sprouts from the cut stump and 
makes a numerous progeny to replace 
the grandeur of the parent used b}^ the 
lumber pool. 

The vitality of the Redwood stump 
is paralleled by the Redwood log. I 
have heard of several striking in- 
.stances of these logs sprouting long 
after having been cut, and have seen 
one instance myself It was a ver^^ 
large log, weather-stained and lying 
ou two or three others in a narrow 
vallej' of the vSanta Cruz Mountains. 

From this log were two bright little 
branches of redwood foliage, one about 
two feet long and the other six inches. 
The log had been cut three years. 
This quality would indicate a facility 
for coming from the cutting which 
would be useful in replanting the deso- 
lated lumber districts. 

The grove of big Redwoods near 
Santa Cruz is very much more pic- 
turesque than that of the big trees at 
Calaveras or elsewhere. It stands in 
a small side ravine with a dense 
growth of forest on every side. 

Beneath the trees creeps the pretty 
Yerba Buena; the thickets are threaded 
by trickling springs and little streams; 
and the whole is ornamented by ferns 
and tall brakes most graceful in their 
feather}' foliage. 

Every admirer of our fated forests 
should visit the Redwood grove of big 
trees at Santa Cruz. A magnificent 
Redwood has been cut for exhibition 
at the World's Fair at Chicago, the 
illustrations in the present paper show- 
ing the section resting upon the parent 
stump, while the tail-piece shows the 
tree leaving the forest. 

The Coast Range forests are full of 
interesting trees. One of these is the 
Madrona- Arbutus Menziesii. Its leaf 
is gloss}^, reminding one of the mag- 
nolia, and its bark a dark red except 
when at certain seasons the old bark is 
shed; it is then white. The Madroiia 
bears red berries, and in the damp 
canons of the Coast Range, where it is 
at its best, is certainly a beautiful ad- 
dition to the more somber Redwoods. 
It thrives in even dry situations, but 
when it is intended to plant this tree 
in dry places the seed should be taken 
from trees found on our dry foothills, 
as in the lateral valleys north of San 
Francisco Bay. 

This discretion in seeds is very essen- 
tial to the successful forester. The 
same species of tree often has a very 
wide natural range. It has now been 
demonstrated that the seeds of the 
same kind of tree have very different 
capacities for producing trees suited to 
the extremes of climate within the 

^•'■t' f j 


Professor Gray. 

Giants of the Calaveras Grove. 

"Doctor John Torrey." 



range of the species to which the par- 
ent tree belongs. 

Thus if one desired a Douglas spruce 
for Scotland the seed should be sought 
in the damp, cool climate of Washing- 
ton or Vancouver. If on the other 
hand the tree was desired for the Sier- 
ras of Spain the seed should be taken 
from the variety found on the difficult 
ranges that surround us here in the 
South. The long-coned spruce of the 
Sierra Madre strays down the hot 
southern slopes of this steep range and 
even joins hands in the caiions with 
the more adventurous sycamores com- 
ing up from the valleys. This spruce 
may play an important part in retim- 
bering some of our uncultivatable foot- 

It is a beautiful tree when mature 
and equally attractive when young. 
In Southern California it is at once the 
victim and the ornament of our Christ- 
mas festivities. The California Holly 
{Hetero}7ieles arbiUifolia) suffers also 
most in man's moments of merriment. 
Its red berries and serrated leaves are 
very ornamental. We have the English 
holly in a few mountain localities, but 
not sufficiently accessible to be much 

One of the most beautiful of our 
native trees is the Wild Cherry of Cata- 
lina {Prunis occidentalis) confined in 
in its native habitat to that island. It 
is a beautiful tree of dense dark-green 
foliage and glossy leaves, reminding 
one from a distance of a perfect orange 
tree._ The forestry station at Santa 
Monica will, we hope, contain some of 
these trees for distribution next year. 
The Lawson Cypress, so splendid 
and so useful a timber tree in damp 
soil, is perhaps the most attractive of 
the evergreens; but it is not suited to 
all or even many places in the south. 
When one commences a conscien- 
tious compendium of the beautiful trees 
of California the deserving aspirants 
crowd so fast around one that the task, 
to be properly performed, must be so 
unduly lengthened out as to be quite 
unmanageable in an article of this 

The oaks are well represented in 
California, and extend from the high 
Sierras to the bluffs by the sea, as at 
Santa Barbara. 

Of these the two most useful for 
timber are the Qiiercus Garryana and 
the Qiiercus oblong if olia. The rest of 
the family are now used mainly for 
fuel; but with better information as to 
the treatment of the wood, and the 
season at which it should be cut, many 
of our oaks will certainly be found 
otherwise useful. The Q. lobata is 
the large oak common in the central 
valleys of the State. It is often a 
great tree and picturesque; but it is, in 
my opinion, never a peer to either the 
Golden Leaf Canon or Iron Oak {Q. 
chrysolepis) of the north, or of our 
Red Live Oak i^Q. agrifolia) of the 

Both these trees have at once a 
friendly dignity and a beckoning 
beauty that suggests on the one hand 
ancestors and respectability, and on the 
other picnics and love scenes. 

In them Cupid seems to play hide 
and seek in the beard of a patriarch. 
There are two immigrants of the 
family that do remarkably well here, 
the English Oak and the Cork Oak.' 
The latter is a good grower in South- 
ern California; and the great commer- 
cial value of its bark should increase 
the planting of this tree. The gath- 
ering of the bark does not injure the 
tree, so its value on waste places is 
certain and of indefinite duration. In 
this respect it differs from our native 
Tan-bark Oak, the bark of which is 
so well known in commerce. 

This tree is cut down and stripped 
of bark, and the wood left to rot, or 
worse,— to feed the flames that may 
thus gather force to destroy the young 
trees that would replace those cut. 
This oak is fast being exterminated, 
and as its wood brings the highest 
price in the northern markets for fuel 
it is an illustration of the waste now 
prevalent in all timbering and forest 
methods in this State. 

There can be little doubt that a 
proper management of the tan-bark 

Giant Pine on Mt. Wilson, Sierra Madre Mountains. 



stripping would leave the tree alive 
and insure regular crops from the 
same trees within a few years of each 
other. We may safely affirm this on 
the experience of the quinine tree- 
planters in India. At first the trees 
were all cut down and stripped of bark 
as in their native woods on the Andes. 
Now they have found that by strip- 
ping half the bark one year and in a 
year or two the other half the tree lives 
and produces continuous crops of bark. 

Our Tan-bark Oaks can do the same. 
As these trees have been cut largely 
on the public lands the laws have been 
violated and the people's property de- 
spoiled. The cutters being trespassers, 
and subject to arrest and punishment, 
naturally do their work in the most 
hasty and imperfect manner, and even 
set fires to hide their tracks. 

When remonstrated with, these per- 
sons say that they get their living from 
these practices, and if they prosper 
what matter if after them does come 
the fire with its dangers, its desola- 
tion, its creation of alternate floods 
and draughts on the denuded water- 
sheds ? What matter, if they grow 
rich, that the valleys by and by should 
support one family where they could 
have supported with properly protected 
watersheds a hundred families ? 

Louis XIV of France appreciated 
fully the political abuses which were 
so severely oppressing his people; but 
instead of remedying them he went 
on in his pursuit of pleasure and per- 
sonal glory, even adding burden to 
burden and oppression to oppression, 
saying with a shrug, "After me the 
deluge." So, sure enough, the deluge 
came. It came in the red blood of 
the nobles of France, and its flood was 
swelled by the blood of the Bourbons 
of his own royal family. The French 
Revolution cut away the dams and bar- 
riers of tyrannical regulation and freed 
the pent-up passions of the people. 
Injury, injustice, extortion, had filled 
the reservoirs thus broken. The eddy- 
ing terrors of the torrent swept blindly 
through France, and the innocent were 
as often its victims as the guilty. 

So must the present treatment of 
our forests, full of folly and crime 
against law, against experience, and 
against nature, bring its punishment. 
And in the desolation the innocent 
must go down as well as the guilty. 
There are, however, no innocent, for we 
may consider that all who stand by 
and see the mountain watersheds so 
denuded of forests as to be unable to 
hold and detain the rains and thus 
bring on torrents at one time and 
droughts at another are guilty and 
should be punished. 

It is now a thoroughlj^ demon- 
strated fact that a certain proportion, 
varying between one-fourth and one- 
fifth, of au}^ large area, should be 
maintained in forest to secure the 
largest agricultural returns. If more 
forest be destroyed, while the total 
arable area is increased, the total out- 
put from the soil is decreased. The 
reason of this is that excessive forest 
denudation increases extremes of tem- 
perature, and consequently increases 
detrimental winds and increases ex- 
tremes of humidity and dryness, all of 
which diminish crops. 

When it comes to a mountainous 
country, the steep declivities of all 
watersheds should be preserved in 
forest; and the mountain forests gener- 
ally should be treated with a conserv^- 
ative spirit. 

The roof of a house will shed water 
as fast as it falls upon it, and a few 
minutes after the rain has ceased to 
fall it is dry. No matter how exten- 
sive a roof may be, its base or outlet 
pipe is either a flood in rain or per- 
fectly dry in good weather. The same 
thing is true of mountains denuded of 
forest and reduced to bare steep sur- 
faces: the water can not tarry; it must 
rush down to the valle}' lands below, 
carrying soil, gravel and boulders in 
its way. 

In mountains naturally bare, as in 
the Colorado Desert and Sahara Desert, 
an exceedingly^ small rainfall creates 
the most destructive torrents. Thus 
in the Colorado with a rainfall of four 



inches annually there are more rail- 
road washouts by torrents originating 
from the slight rainfall on bare mount- 
tains, than there are at Mt. Shasta 
with sixty inches of annual rainfall 
detained by wooded mountain slopes. 
In mountains formerly forested, but 
now denuded, torrents form that are 
violent, unregulatable and destructive, 
as in Palestine, Provence, Spain, 
Africa, Tyrol, etc. The water thus 

The torrent in Allen Street, that 
crosses the old Mutual Orchard tract 
near the steam laundry, together with 
a number of others, have all come into 
existence within the last nine years 
owing to brush-clearing on the foot- 
hills. On the other hand the great 
Edwards' fire on the watershed of 
Precipice Caiion diminished, accord- 
ing to the distinguished engineer Mr. 
James Craig, the summer water sup- 

A Fallen Giant in Mariposa Grove. 

suddenly delivered from a given water- 
shed is not only dangerous in its pow- 
erful flood,— action in tearing away 
and destroying in some places, while 
it dumps its debris in others,— but it 
is lost. Such flood-water is gone, and 
the wells, springs and streams of the 
district must be diminished in their 
permanent flow. 

About Pasadena these results of 
unwise forest denudation are already 

ply of that canon by at least one-third 
for years afterw^ard. The results of 
forest denudation on mountains has 
been amongst other things to increase 
largely the amount of debris carried 
by the streams or torrents in such dis- 
tricts. While still amongst the steep 
grades in the mountains the streams 
carry most of the debris brought into 
them from the bare hillsides. But 
when the waters reach the lower grades 
of the valley the slackened current is 



no longer capable of carrying the load; 
so first the boulders, then the stones, 
then the pebbles, then the sand and 
at last the clay and fine earth are 
deposited as the grade diminishes. In 
this way torrents frequently fill up 
their channels during floods and run 
off into some new and unexpected 
course. The Los Angeles River is a 
stream threatening to do this. To 
prevent the overflow and destructive 
action of torrents, dikes or levees are 
built. As the bed of the stream rises 
so must the levee. The top of the 
dike of the Talfer torrent at Boetzen 
in the Tyrol is now on a level with 
the roofs of the four-story houses. 

Other torrents in the neighborhood 
have raised their beds even higher, and 
in spite of ever}^ precaution disastrous 
floods every now and again overwhelm 
the country. 

Mr. Gervaise Purcell, formerly an 
engineer in th&^Japanese railway con- 
struction service, tells me that one of 
the valley railroads there, in passing 
several such diked-up torrents, found 
their beds so much above the surround- 
ing country that tunneling was resorted 
to, and the railway now goes 7^;?(f<?r the 
stream, not over it. We might pro- 
ceed in this inquiry to the disastrous 
efiects of landslides and avalanches in 
denuded mountains, to the consequent 
damming up of gorges or streams, and 
the subsequent sudden bursting of the 
barrier with a terrible flood for the 

We might examine the difierence in 
the rate of snow-melting and a hun- 
dred other things germane in interest, 
but the time will onlj^ permit a sum- 
mary. Thus we know that a forested 
watershed intercepts, detains and ab- 
sorbs the rain so much that a given 
amount of water falling on such a 
watershed would be much longer in 
flowing off, would give more oppor- 
tunity to the water to penetrate into 
the spring veins and tend to make the 
stream flowing from it more perennial 
than the same amount of rain falling 
on a bare watershed of the same area. 
In the one case all the rainfall would be 

so intercepted by the thousand impedi- 
ments offered b}- the forest, that it would 
take weeks to deliver a given rain 
where in the other case it would take 
but hours. 

Any one can appreciate the difier- 
ence and figure out the volume and 
depth of water in each case, say where 
one hundred million gallons must pass 
a given point, from the wooded water- 
course in five weeks; from the bare 
and roof-like one in five hours. 

When one reflects a little on this 
point it is not hard to understand how 
whole countries have been depopulated 
and ruined by the destruction of their 
forests, and how every existing civil- 
ized country except the United States 
has long ago been driven for self-pres- 
ervation to a scientific forestry man- 

There is one other tree whose treat- 
ment in this State distresses both the 
sentimental and the reasonable person. 
It is that splendid giant of the forest 
the Sugar Pine {Pinus Lajnbertiana) . 
This tree is the largest pine tree of the 
whole world and a most valuable timber 
tree. Itis distinguished by its sugar-like 
gum on wounds, by its long spineless 
cone, by its graceful habit, its great 
height and by its growing in forests of 
other trees and not in solid groves all 
its own. One of the peculiarities of 
this tree is the free splitting quality 
possessed by a certain proportion of 
them, but not by all. 

Taking advantage of this the shake- 
makers eke out a poor subsistence by 
tramping through the Sierras and fell- 
ing ever\' grand sugar pine they come 
across. Some split well; a few lengths 
of these are used, but thousands upon 
thousands of feet of clear lumber are 
left to rot and feed the flames. Some 
do not split well; and these are left 
entire, a menace to their fellows of the 
forest and a source of sorrow to the 
sagacious. The shake-maker like the 
tan-bark gatherer is a trespasser, a vio- 
lator of law and a thief of the public 
property. These two are the authors 
of the gros.sest waste in our forest ex- 
ploitation. The mill-men, however, 



and especially those whose timber is 
largely derived illegally from Govern- 
ment and State school lands, are care- 
less and wasteful in the extreme. It 
is only within a few years that any of 
them seem to have realized, even when 
cutting on lands to which they had 
title, that the mountain forests under 
reasonable management were capable 
of furnishing a perpetual supply of 
timber. The usual custom is to cut 
over a district, to leave the tops and 

When we learn that the total forest 
area of Saxony gives a net annual 
return of $3.25 per acre, or ten per 
cent on a valuation of $32.50 per acre, 
we can understand how far we now 
are from an economical use of our for- 
ests. The Federal Government and 
the State now sell their forest lands in 
fee for from $1.25 to $2.50 per acre. 

The purchaser is either a speculator, 
or else buys on the calculation of one 
of our wasteful cuttings, with no use of 

Section of a Giant Redwood for World's Fair. 

limbs of the trees a food for flame sure 
to destroy one crop of young trees, and 
to abandon the mill. How much bet- 
ter to take out the ripe timber, to pro- 
tect what is left, — which in turn will 
soon be merchantable, — and to regu- 
late the new growth, to thin it out, to 
protect it from sheep, to encourage the 
right varieties, and thus to make the 
mountain lands, useful only as forest 
producers, a perpetual source of rev- 

any of the secondarj- products as fire- 
wood, and no expectation of a future 
crop. The land when once cut over is 
usually abandoned. 

When we consider the importance 
of so managing our forests as to insure 
a supply of wood, timber, fuel, etc., 
for our people, and still more important 
to presence the integrity of the forest 
area, while using its products, for the 
climatic effects and the safety of our 
watersheds, every one must condemn 



the present system, or, more properly, 
lack of system. 

Coming back to the pines we find 
this family in California exceedingly 

There are to start with more species 
on the Pacific Coast, and more in Cal- 
ifornia, than in any similar area in the 

The Pacific Slope has twent3^-three 
species, California eighteen, and there 
are besides ten well-marked varieties. 
We have the largest pine tree in the 
world, probably also the smallest, the 
one with the largest cone, the one 
with the smallest, the best nut pro- 
ducers, and the only pine with its 
foliage growing as solitary leaves in- 
stead of in bunches. Several of the 
species are only found in very re.stricted 
localities, as the Torrey and the Mon- 
terey Pine. 

If it were not for the Sugar Pine we 
would still have the finest and grand- 
est pine tree of the world in the Pinus 
Ponderosa or Yellow Pine. This tree 
extends throughout the mountain re- 
gion of California, and with the Incense 
Cedar and Douglas Spruce forms the 
coniferous forests on our own southern 

'The Pinon Pine, the Digger Indian, 
the Coulteri, or big cone, all with large, 
sweet, edible seeds, grow in our driest 
and hottest foothills, and with the Juni- 
per and Mesquit hold out a hope for 
turning much of our deserts to use. 
This latter tree has a gum similar to 
gum arable, which it is now used to 
adulterate. It has also an edible seed 
much used by the Indians and Mexi- 
cans both for themselves and for their 
stock. Its wood ranks above oak for 
firewood, and is practically indestruct- 
ible in the ground. Of all trees in the 
world it has the widest range, extend- 
ing from the deserts and plateaus east 
and west of the Sierra and Rocky 
Mountains through Mexico, South 
America, and crossing the Andes is 
found still in L,a Plata and Bolivia. It 
comes from the seed easily, and under 
favorable conditions makes reasonably 
rapid growth and a fine, good-sized tree. 

And still we have said nothing of 
the California Laurel, our native and 
fragrant Bay, whose wood is now so 
valuable for cabinet work ; nothing of 
our Alders, Ashes, Maples, Firs, Pop- 
lars, Willows, Cottonwoods, Syca- 
mores, Walnut, and other interesting- 
trees, nor can we within these limits. 
It remains to say a few words about 
the work of the State Board of For- 
estry and the needs of forestry in 
California. The Board has kept dur- 
ing the summer, and until the funds 
failed, a forest police. These officers 
have posted throughout the State fire 
notices ; have arrested persons caught 
setting forest fires ; have reported rob- 
beries of timber to the Department of 
the Interior when on Government 
lands, and to the State's Attorney- 
General when on school lands, and 
have generally educated and advised 
the people as to the importance of a 
sensible forestry system. 

The Federal Government has pros- 
ecuted its cases against timber thieves 
as fast as could be expected, and in the 
last one tried has secured a verdict 
for forty-one thousand dollars; but 
strangely enough the Attorney-Ge-n- 
eral of the State has not thought him- 
self called upon to protect the State 
school lands in forest, nor to try to re- 
cover the value of lumber stolen from 

We presented one test case in which 
the evidence was complete and conclu- 
sive, from the wood-choppers, mill- 
hands and surveyors to those who had 
sold the sawed lumber. 

This case involved thousands of 
dollars for the School Fund ; it was 
one of many. The parties were rich 
and responsible; but the Attorney- 
General would neither himself prose- 
cute, nor authorize us to use the name 
of the State. The mountain school 
sections are only valuable for their 
timber ; if this is cut and stolen the 
School Fund is a permanent loser. 

In this way the schools of the State 
have been defrauded of hundreds of 
thousands of dollars. 



The Board's engineer has continued 
the preparation of the complete and 
accurate forest map of this State, com- 
menced in our last report, and which 
has been so much commended. 

The new departure of making a 
complete scientific account of the for- 
est trees of California, in popular 
form, a thing never before done, has 
been intrusted to the distinguished 
botanist Prof. J. G. lycmmon and his 
accomplished wife. 

establishment of forest experimental 
stations in the different climatic belts 
of the State. We commenced the 
encouragement of tree-planting by- 
bulletins and seed distribution. 

This system was found unsatisfac- 
tory. Much rare tree-seed was 
through the lack of knowledge as to 
its treatment by the recipients ; and we 
could depend on no reliable record as 
to what trees were best for the very 
various conditions in this State. On 

Section of a Giant Redwood for VVoiia";-. Fair. 

In the report for 1891, a full and 
complete account of the pine family, 
with illustrations, may be found. 

Mr. \V. S. Lyon, the present head 
forester, and an accomplished botanist 
and practical tree-grower, has a valu- 
able article on some of the trees suit- 
able for planting in California. The 
special agent's report will also be found 

The great departure made by the 
Board in the last year has been the 

the other hand many groves of rare 
trees have been established in many 
parts of the State ; and we now know 
that trees like the Sugar Gum {Euca- 
lyptus cojyncealyx) will thrive in nearly 
all the more difficult parts of Cali- 
fornia, and in places where frost or 
drought has been too much for the 
common Blue Gum. 

But the general results were not 
good. A record was hard to get, hard 
to keep up, and still harder to show to 



tree-planters. By the new system of 
stations a person, after their estabhsh- 
ment, can go and see with his own 
eyes what new or native trees will do 
under varying circumstances, and can 
tell which he likes best to plant for 
attractiveness as well as for utility. 
The stations will be planted in park 
form, and will be places of beauty as 
well as of instruction. One of them 
is ICO acres in extent, and they are 
situated in such different climates as 
the Bidwell Station at Chico, the Mer- 
ced Station in the center of the State, 
the Santa Monica on the sea-coast, 
and the Hesperia on the edge of the 
Mojave. Bye and bye our tree record 
will be complete and invaluable, and 
our stations will make tree-planting 
under any conditions in this State a 
certain science instead of a risky ex- 
periment as it now so largely is. All 
this valuable land worth about $ioo,- 
ooo has been donated in the most gen- 
erous and public-spirited way; and the 
State has now about $ro,ooo worth of 
young and rare trees ready to be set 
out as soon as the IvCgislature provides 

The demands of rational forestry in 
this State may be summarized as fol- 
lows : 

All Government mountain forest 
lands to be at once reserved from sale. 

All State school forest lands to be 
also reserved from sale. 

All such lands to be placed under 
the management of forest officers who 

will regulate pasturage, protect the 
game for the true sportsman, prevent 
or put out forest fires, manage the new 
growth with a view to making it even- 
tually valuable, and sell on the stump 
or otherwise the ripe timber, tan-bark, 
firewood and other products of the for- 
est. The fees from such management 
to provide as in Europe for its cost. 

In this way, and in this way only, 
can be secured a supply of timber, 
firewood, resin, gums, nuts, tannin, 
charcoal, etc., for even a few years 

In this way only can we insure the 
protection of our valleys, farms and 
towns from torrents and floods. In 
this way only can we secure the per- 
manency of our wells, springs, streams 
and water supply. 

California, in its dry and wet sea- 
son, in its valleys and steep mountain 
ranges, and in its moderate and, in 
places, small rainfall, is similar in its 
general conditions to those countries 
that have been so much injured, even 
often destroyed, by the results of for- 
est denudation. 

This is true also of all the Rocky 
Mountain region and of the territory 
west of it. Every day that passes will 
make the forestry measures absolute- 
ly requisite for the safety of this large 
area more difficult and more expensive 
to carry out. 

All friends of the forest should pur- 
sue untiringly the objects set out in 
the order named. 


By George Brooke. 


KVER heard how 
we got relig- 
ion to Angels, 
stranger ? I 
thought, uv 
course, every- 
body 'd heerd 
that yarn. 
Tellyer? why 
sure; but let's 
licker again and I'll reminisce. 

"Yer see 'twas afore Angels got 
to be sech a big camp as 'twas later on, 
but it was a rich camp and a mighty 
wicked one. There were lots uv chaps 
there who'd jest as soon die in their 
boots as eat; and every other house 
was a dance-house or a saloon or a 
gambling -hell. Pretty Pete and his 
pardner Five Ace Bob was reckoned 
the wickedest men in the State; and 
Old Bill Jones, what kept the Golden 
West Hotel, had a national reputation 
for cussin'. The idea of a parson 
striking the camp never was thought 
uv; but one day I was playing bank 
into Pete's game when Five Ace came 
a runnin' in 'n' sez: 'Boys, I'll be 

, but there's an ornery cuss of a 

parson jest rid up to Jones'. He's got 
a pardner with him, and he 'lows he's 
goin' to convert the camp. ' ' The 

-he is,' sez Pete. ' I'll finish the 

deal and go down and see about that.' 
So we all walked down to Jones', 
and thar, sure 'nuff, in the bar, talk- 
ing with Old Bill, wuz the parson, 
black coat and white tie 'n' all. He 
was a big, squar'-shouldered chap 
with a black beard and keen gray eyes 
that looked right through yer. His 
pardner was only a boy of twenty or 
so, with yeller, curly ha'r, pink and 
white gal's face, and big blue eyes. 
We all walked in, 'n' Pete he stands to 
the bar 'n' shouts fer all hands ter 
drink; 'n' to our surprise the parson 'n' 

the kid both stepped up and called for 
red licker 'n' drank it. After the drink 
was finished the parson sez : ' Gents, 
as yer see, I'm a minister of the gos- 
pel; but I see no harm in any man 
drinking ez long ez he ain't no drunk- 
ard. I drank just now because I 
want you to see that I am not ashamed 
to do before yer face what I'd do be- 
hind yer back.' 'Right yer are, 
parson,' sez Pete, 'put it thar;' 'n' 
they shook hands, and then Pete he 
up and called off the hull gang, Five 
Ace 'n' Lucky Barnes 'n' Dirty 
Smith 'n' one 'n' all the rest uv 'em. 
The parson shook hands with all uv 
us and sed he was going to have a 
meetin' in Shifty Sal's dance-house 
that night, ez 'twas the biggest room 
in camp, 'n' ast us all to come, 'n' 
we sed we would. 

' ' When we got outside Pete sez, 
' Boys, you mind me, that devil dodg- 
er '11 capture the camp;' 'n' he did. 
That night we all went along down to 
Shifty's and found the parson and the 
kid on the platform where the fiddlers 
ust to sit ; and every man in camp wuz 
in the audience. The parson spoke 
first. He sed : ' Gents, I want to tell 
yer first off I don't want any uv yer 
dust. I've got enuff fer myself and 
my young friend, 'n' there won't be 
no rake-oflf in this yer meetin'-house, 
'n' I'm not here to preach against any 
man's way o' makin' a livin' . I will 
preach agin drunkenness, and I shall 
speak privately with the gamblers ; 
but I want to keep you men in mind 
uv yer homes 'n' yer mothers 'n' yer 
wives 'n' yer sweethearts, and get yer 
to lead cleaner lives, so 's when yer 
meet 'em agin yer '11 not hev to be 
'shamed;' and then he sed We'd 
hev a song, 'n' the j^oungster he 
started in 'n' played a concertina, and 
sang, ' Yes, We Will Gather at the 




River ; ' 'n' there wuzn't one uv us that 
it didn't remind uv how our mothers 
ust to dress us up Sundays 'n' send us 
to Sunda5^-school and stand at the 
door to watch us down street, and call 
us back to ast if we were sure we had 
our clean pocket handkerchur ; 'n' I 
tell yer, mister, thar wuz n't a man 
with dry eyes in the crowd when he 'd 
finished. That young feller had a 
v'ice like a angel. Pete he sed it wuz 
a tenner v'ice, but Five Ace offered to 
bet him a hundred to fifty it wuz more 
like a fifteener or a twenty. Pete told 

Five Ace he wuz a old fool 'n' 

didn't know what he wuz talkin' about. 

' ' Well, things run along for about a 
week, 'n' one day Pete come to me and 
sez : ' Look here, Ralters, this yere 
camp aint no jay camp, 'n' we 've got 
to hev a church fer the parson. He 's 
a jim-dandy, and won't ask for noth- 
ing. He 'd jest natchelly go on pray- 
in' and preachin,' 'n' tryin' tersave a 
couple uv old whisky -soaked souls like 
yourn and Bill Jones', which aint 

wuth powder to blow 'em to , 'n' 

you 'd let him go on doin' it in that 
old shack of Sal's 'n' never make a 
move. Now, I'm goin' to rustle round 
'n' dig up dust enufif from the boys, 
and we '11 jest build him a meetin'- 
house as '11 be a credit to the camp;' 
'n' in a few days the boys hed a good 
log meetin' -house built, floored, 'n' 
benches in it 'n' every thin' . The parson 
was tickled most to death. Next they 
built him a house, 'n' he 'n' his pard- 
ner moved into it. Then Pete said the 
gals must go; sed it wuz a dead, rank, 
snide game to work on the parson ter 
hev to go down street 'n' be guyed by 
them hussies ('n' they did guy him 
awful sometimes too) ; so the gals they 
went. Then Pete sed the church had to 
be properly organized ; hed to hev dea- 
cons 'n' churchwardens 'n' sextons 'n' 
things ; so old Bill Jones 'n' Alabam 
'n' me wuz made deacons, 'n' Pete 
'n' Five Ace was churchwardens. 

" In a month every last man in camp 
wuz worry in' 'bout his future state. 
Old Bill Jones came into meetin' one 
niffht with his face 'n' hands washed 

'n' an old black suit on, 'n' sot down 
on the anxious bench and ast to be 
prayed fer. The parson knelt down 
'n' put his arm round him, 'n' how he 
did pray ; before he got through 
lyucky Barnes, Alabam 'n' me wuz on 
the bench too, 'n' Pete shoved his 
Chinaman up the aisle by the collar 
'n' sot him down 'longside o' me. 
Pete sed he was a high-toned Chris- 
tian gentleman himself, hed been born 
'n' raised a Christian, 'n' wuz a senior 
churchwarden to boot, and that he'd 
make a Christian of Ah Foo or spoil 
a Chinaman. That parson prayed most 
powerful that night. As a off-hand, 
rough 'n' tumble, free 'n' easy prayer 
I never see his beat; he hed the whole 
aujience in tears, 'n' you might hev 
heard Pete's amens 'n' glory hallelu- 
yers off to Buller's Flat. Old Jones 
wuz a rolling around on the floor 'n' 
hollering fer to be saved from the 
Devil before the parson were half fin- 
ished, 'n' he made so much noise that 
Pete hed to fire a bucket uv water over 
him to quiet him down. That meetin' 
wuz so plum full uv the spirit (ez the 
parson called it) that it never broke 
up till 12 o'clock, 'n' wouldn't hev 
broke up then only Pete sed he 'd hev 
to quit ez his shift to deal faro begun 
at 12. 

' ' There wuz over twenty perfesses 
that night not countin' Pete's China- 
man, 'n' next Sunday we hed a big 
baptizm in the crick, 'n' forty 'uv us 
wuz put through. Pete sed he reck- 
oned Ah Foo hed better be put through 
every day for a week or so, sence he 'd 
always bin a dod gasted heathen, but 
the parson lowed onct wuz enufif, but 
he giv' him an extra dip jest fer luck; 
'n' I never see a more ornery lookin' 
cuss in my life than that Chinese were 
when he came out. 

' ' The Chinese laundrymen were ast 
to jine the church, but they wouldn't 
savey, 'n' so Pete 'n' Five Ace, Old 
Bill 'n' me 'n' Alabam we waited on 
'em 'n' told 'em to git, 'n' took 'em 
down to the crick 'n' baptized 'em 
jest fer luck. Pete said if they stayed 
Ah Foo 'ud git to backslidin' fust 



thing he knowed, 'n' then where 'd 
his reputation be. 

' ' Waal, stranger, things run along 
nice 'n' smooth t'er a couple uv months 
er so till Chris' mus come nigh. The 
boys hed been a keepin' mighty 
straight; there wasn't a man in camp 
that drunked more'n wuz hullsome fer 
him; there hed n' t bin a shootin' scrape 
fer weeks. Pete said things wuz gittin' 
so all-fired cam 'n' peaceful that he 
wouldn't be at all surprised to git up 
sum fine day 'n' find Ah Foo with 
wings 'n' feathers on his legs like a 
Bramah hen. Nary a man packed a 
gun, 'n' when a gent 'ud forgit 'n' 
drop a cuss word he'd beg parding. 
The parson was thick with all the 
boys. He writ letters for us, advised 
us about all our biznus, 'n' knew all 
about everj'body's affairs. L,ots uv 
'em gave him their dust-sack to keep 
fer 'em, 'n' he knowed where every 
man hed his cached. 

" Along jest afore Chris'mus cum, 
Pete called a meetin' uv the deacons 
'n' churchwardens down to his place, 
'n' after the sexton (Ah Foo) had 
brought in a round of drinks he said: 
' Gents, ez chairman ex ofiicer in this 
yer layout, I move that we give the 
parson a little present fer Chris'mus. 
Yer know he won't take a durn cent 
from us, 'n' never has. Uv course he 
has taken a few thousand from time to 
time to send to orfings 'n' things uv 
that kind, but not a red for hisself or 
pard; 'n' I move that we make him a 
little present on Chris'mus day, 'n' 

it needn't be so little, either. 

Geats in favor '11 say so, and gents 
wot ain't kin keep mum. Carried, 'n' 
that settles it. Five Ace 'n' me '11 
take in contributions, 'n' we won't 
take any less than fifty cases.' 

"That wuz twodays afore Chris'mus 
day, 'n' when it cum Pete 'n' Five Ace 
hed about five thousand in dust 'n' 
nuggets fer the parson's present. Pete 
assessed Ah Foo a month's pay, 'n' he 
kicked hard accordin' , but 'twxr' n't no 
use. The day was bright 'n' clear, 'n' 
at 'leven o'clock every man in camp 
wuz at church. The little buildin' 

looked mighty tasty, — all fixed off with 
pine tassels 'n' red berries we'd got in 
the woods, 'n' every man wuz dressed 
out in his best duds. At 'leven exact 
the parson 'n' the kid, who hed bin 
standin' at the door shakin' hands 'n' 
wishin' everybody what cum in merry 
Chris'mus, cum in 'n' took their seats 
on the platform. Pete 'n' Five Ace 
'n' Bill Jones 'n' Alabam 'n' me sot 
on a bench jest in front o' the platform. 
We wuz all togged out in our best fix- 
in's, 'n' Pete 'n' Five Ace they sported 
dimons till yer couldn't rest. Waal, ez 
usual, the perceedin's opened up with 
er prayer from the parson; 'n' then we 
hed singin' , 'n' it seemed ter me ez if I 
never hed heerd sich singin' in my life 
afore ez thet kid let out o' him thet day. 
Then the parson he started in ter jaw, 
'n' I must ellow he giv us a great dis- 
course. I never see him so long-winded 
afore, tho' , 'n' Pete was beginnin' to get 
mighty restless 'n' oneasy, when all uv 
a suddint we heerd the door open 'n' 
shet quick 'n' sharp, 'n' every one 
turned round to find a great big black- 
bearded cuss at the door a coverin' the 
hull gang uv us with a double-barled- 
shotgun, ' n' j est a standin' thar cool ' n ' 

silent. 'Face round here, yer 

fools,' yelled somebody in a sharp, quick, 
biznus-meanin' v'ice, 'n' all hands 
faced round to find the parson holding 
'em up with another shotgun, — own 
brother to the one the other cuss hed. 
' I don't want a word out er yer,' 
he sed. ' Yer see my game now, don't 
yer? Tharaint aguninthehouse'cept 
the ones you see, 'n' if any gent makes 
any row in this yer meetin' I'll fill his 
hide so plum full o' holes 't won't hold 
his bones. The kid will now take up 
the collection, 'n' ez it's the first one 
we ever hev taken up yer must make 
it a liber' 1 one, see ? ' The kid started 
out with a gunnysack, 'n' went 
through every last man in the crowd. 
He took everything, even to the rings 
on our fingers. The parson hed the 
drop, 'n' we knew it 'n' never kicked, 
but jest giv' up our stuff like lambs. 

' ' After the kid hed finished he took 
the sack outside, 'n' thets the last we 



ever seed o' him. Then the parson he 
sez: ' 'n' now, gents, I must say adoo, ez 
I must be a travelin', for I hev another 
meetin' to attend this eve' . I want to 
say, tho', afore I go, thet you're the 

orneriest gang of fools I 

ever played for suckers. A few friends 
uv mine hev tiken the libert}^ while 
yer've been to meetin' this blessed 
Chris' mus day, uv goin' through yer 
cabins 'n' diggin' up 3^er little caches 
uv dust 'n' uther valables. Yer stock 
hez all been stampeded, 'n' yer guns 
yer '11 find somewhar at the bottom of 
the crick. My friend at the door will 
hold yer level while I walk out, 'n' 
we will then keep yer quiet fer a few 
minutes longer through ther winder 
jest so 's we can git a nice cumf table 
start;' 'n' so they did. What cud we 
do ? The parson walked out, grinning 
all over himself, 'n' he 'n' his pals 
they nailed up the door 'n' winders 
(thar wuz only two), 'n' very soon after 
they hed finished we heerd the clatter 

o' huffs 'n' knowed they wuz gone. 
I must draw a vail over the rest uv 
thet day's purceedin's, stranger. The 
langwidge used by ther boys wuz too 
awful to repeat; but t'was jest ez this 
parson sed, when we got out o' thet 
meetin' -house we found every animal 
on the location gone, 'n' the only arms 
left wuz knives 'n' clubs; yet we'd 
hev gone after 'em with no thin' but 
our hands, but we couldn't follow 
afoot. How much did they get? I 
don't rightly know, but not fur frum 
fifty thousand. The hull camp wuz 
stone-broke, all excep' Ah Foo, 'n' he 
wuz the only one uv us hed sense 
enuflf not to tell thet durned parson 
whar he cached his stuff. Pete 'n' 
Five Ace wuz so everlastin' hurt at 
the hull biznus that they shut up the 
' Bird o' Prey,' borrowed Ah Foo's 
sack 'n' left for the Bay to try 'n' find 
thet parson; but they never did find 
him, 'n' no one ever heard uv him 


By James T. White. 

THE touch of her dear hand 
So sweet and tender: 
Ah! how can I withstand 
The touch of her dear hand ? 
Nor can I understand 
What charm doth render 
The touch of her dear hand 
So sweet and tender. 


By Elliott Coues. 

Have an extraordinary care also of the late Theosophers, that teach men to climb to Heaven 
upon a ladder of lying figments.— N. Ward, Simple Cobler, page i8. 

THE above quaint caution, by an 
old and almost forgotten author, is 
timely, now that one of the most 
audacious, unscrupulous and successful 
impostors since Cagliostro has lately 
died, leaving to the world a legacy of 
doubt about the difference between a 
Blavatsky's pretensions and the wis- 
dom of God. 

Few persons had heard the word 
" theosophy," and to fewer still was it 
more than a strange word, whose mean- 
ing was to be sought in the dictionary, 
until a notorious Russian adventuress 
identified the name of the thing with 
her own name by a career of systematic 
imposture which may be said to have 
fairly opened in 1875 and ended with 
her death in May, 1891. ThatBla- 
vatskyism and theosophism are iden- 
tical is now a popular fallacy so deeply 
rooted as to be almost ineradicable. 
But the fact is, that the ingenious 
woman simply invented a scheme for 
exploiting herself, and called that 
scheme ' ' theosophy. ' ' That the exist- 
ing " Theosophical Society," so far as 
that sham has any actual existence, is 
merely one of many ways of gambling 
upon public credulity for private pur- 
poses, has been demonstrated repeat- 
edly. But it should not be difficult to 
separate this particular humbug from 
any system of religious philosophy to 
which the name of theosophy rightly 
attaches. The present writer happens 
to be familiar with both the true and 
false systems; and he knows that a 
few hours spent in looking up the rep- 
utable authorities on the subject would 
enable any one of average intelligence 
to discriminate between the two. Into 
the false system lately popularized as a 
fad he does not propose to enter, be- 
cause the whole machinery of that hoax 
has already been exposed, by himself 

as well as by others.* But the readers 
of Thk Californian may be in- 
terested and perhaps surprised to learn 
something of the history and proper 
significance of the term "theosophy." 

How many persons, for example, 
know when, or where, or for what pur- 
pose, "The Theosophical Society" 
was first established ? Did not most 
imagine that it was first founded in 
New York, a few years ago, for the 
purpose of exploiting Blavatsky ? But 
in Notes and Queries, 7th series, vol- 
ume xi, page 127, we read as follows: 

" From the end of the year 1783 to 
the beginning of the year 1788 there 
existed a society entitled ' The Theo- 
sophical Society, instituted for the 
purpose of promoting the Heavenly 
Doctrines of the New Jerusalem, by 
translating, printing and publishing 
the Theological Writings of the Hon- 
ourable Emanuel Swedenborg.' " 

That these theosophists were Swe- 
denborgians, pure and simple, is evi- 
dent from their official title and 
prospectus, of more than a century 
ago. How far they succeeded in propa- 
gating their faith, their representa- 
tives of to-day are best able to say. 
Yet this old Swedenborgian society is 
comparatively new and modern, as may 
easily be shown. 

Thus the American Journal of Psy- 
chology, vol. i, p. 546, declares that 
" Theosophy is but the recrudesc2nce 
of a belief widely proclaimed in the 
twelfth century, and held to in some 
form by many barbaric tribes." It 
may be quite a shock to some to be 
thus sent back to the Dark Ages in 

* See, for example, Dr. Hodgson's Report in 
the Proceedings of the London Society for 
Psychical Research ; the article by the present 
writer in the New York Sun of July 20, 1S90; and 
INIr. M. D. Conway's recent contribution to The 




quest of that which they fancied was a 
new thing when thej' caught at a word 
appropriated by a cunning charlatan 
from Webster's Dictionar^M But let 
us cite some respectable authorities 

Dr. H. More, in his "Brief Dis- 
course of Enthusiasm," remarks s^^y 
and acutely: "I have observed gener- 
ally of theosophists, as of several other 
men more palpably mad, that their 
thoughts are carried much to astrol- 
ogy." So the theosophists of his day 
were the astrologers, to whom astral 
bodies, and other supposed modern 
myths of the Mahatmic machiner>^ 
were no novelty' . 

Enfield's " History of Philosophy" 
states, in critical mood, that ' ' manj^ 
traces of the spirit of theosophismma}^ 
be found through the whole history of 
philosophy, in which nothing is more 
frequent than fanatical and hypocritical 
pretensions to divine illumination." 
He did not profess to be a prophet; but 
it seems that theosophists of before his 
time may be matched by some of those 
who rejoice in the name to-day. 

Theosophical speculation is in fact 
much older than mediaeval history. 
Its tortuous course is easity traced 
back to its cradle in the opinions of the 
Neo-Platonists of the third centur>^ 
A. D. — and how much further back 
we are not now concerned to say. 

Thus Ueberweg's " History of Phi- 
losoph}^ " divides Greek philosophy 
into three periods. The third and last 
of these he styles the period of ' ' the 
Neo-Platonists and their predecessors, 
or the predominance of theosophy.'' 
It is historically established that Am- 
monius Saccas, who lived about 175- 
250 A. D., and his immediate disciples, 
if they did not originate this drift of 
speculation, at least founded the Alex- 
andrian school of Neo-Platonism. The 
doctrines of Ammonius were syste- 
maticall}'- developed by his most con- 
spicuous pupil, Plotinus (204-269 
A. D.). The latter was the first to 
commit to writing those opinions 
which have reached us in the six 
" Enneads of Plotinus," as revised and 

edited by Porphyry (born about 233 
A. D.), his pupil and biographer. The 
six ' ' Enneads' ' were so called because 
they consisted of nine treatises apiece, 
making a total of fifty-four articles on 
theosophy and kindred topics. 

These books of Plotinus were first 
published in the Latin text of Marsi- 
lius Ficinus, at Florence, in 1492, and 
afterw^ard in Greek at Basel in 1580. 
Having neither of these versions be- 
fore me as I write, I am open to cor- 
rection if I be wrong. But I am 
much mistaken if the word ' ' theos- 
ophy," in its Latin and Greek form, 
and in its application to the Neo-Pla- 
tonic speculations of the Alexandrian 
school of the third century, does not 
first occur in the Enneads of Ploti- 
nus. In that case theosophy and 
Neo-Platonism would be synonymous 
terms, neither of which is strictly ap- 
plicable to the set of wild notions now 
covered by the term "theosophy," 
as appropriated by Blavatsky and her 
agents. To be a theosophist is thus 
simply to be a Plotinist. Yet I doubt 
that many persons who style them- 
selves theosophists ever heard of Plo- 
tinus, or ever looked at one of his 
books, or ever imagined that this Neo- 
Platonist and his disciples formed a 
sort of theosophic societj^ at Alexan- 
dria in the third century after Christ, 
before Christianity had been formally 
established under the oflScial sanction 
and by the strong arm of the Roman 
Emperor Constantine. 

In thus insisting upon the genuine- 
ness and authenticity of Plotinism as 
being that body of speculation which 
reads its title clearest to the 7iame of 
theosophy, I must not be misunder- 
stood to 'mean that Plotinism is our 
only example of the thi7ig that theos- 
ophy really is. A thing and the 
name of that thing are to be clearly 
distinguished. A thing may change 
in all but its name. In which case, 
the name no longer means what it did 
before, and may acquire a very differ- 
ent or even opposite signification. 
"Theosophy" is a case in point. 
The original connotation of the term 



has just been shown; but nearly or 
quite all of its original distinctive 
edges and angles have been worn 
smooth in rolling down the ages, till, 
like a rounded pebble, it fits nowhere 
with precision. " Theosophy" is a 
noun which has been used to label the 
outcome of many opposing and quite 
irreconcilable speculations which have 
but one thing in common, namely, 
that they proceed from the spiritual or 
noumenal to the material or phenom- 
enal world. This is the diametric 
opposite of the method of science, 
which proceeds from the physical 
to the psychical aspects of Nature, 
— or, at any rate, as far in that direc- 
tion as the evidence of the senses 
and the logical processes of the mind 
will carry it, — till it reaches the intel- 
lectually unknowable and stops there. 
Theosophy assumes certain principles 
without material evidence, and reasons 
out a system of belief, for better or 
worse, on ct priori grounds. Science 
observes certain facts and infers cer- 
tain principles therefrom, arguing d. 
posteriori, for better or worse, but is 
generally content with such knowl- 
edge as may be thus acquired, and 
believes little or nothing that cannot 
be proven. Thus theosophy is the 
real antithesis and exact counterpart 
of science. No one who relies upon 
the evidence of his senses for the sum 
of his cognitions can be a theosophist 
in any proper sense of the word. He 
must believe many things that he 
cannot candidly profess to understand. 
He must have ideas — or intuitions — 
or imaginings — call them what you 
please, which he cannot submit to the 
test of observation and experiment; 
which he cannot prove to be true, be- 
cause by their very nature they are 
not logically demonstrable ; yet he 
must assume them to be true in 
the absence of evidence to the con- 
trary; and upon them he must base 
his beliefs, construct his philosophy, 
weave his ethics, regulate his conduct, 
and stake his religion. His theos- 
ophy, to be worth anything, even to 
be worth the name, must be at once a 

church invisible and a bible unwrit- 
ten, both infallible for him, because of 
their origination in what he believes 
to be the divine in his own nature, 
and, therefore, a revelation of the God 
in man. 

The fairness of the above statements 
I judge to be scarcely questionable ; 
and the point I strive to make is the 
very soul or spirit of every theosophy, 
however variously embodied in differ- 
ent places, at different times, and in 
man 3^ different persons. And obviously 
it is not to the prejudice of the theo- 
sophical character of any system of 
belief that it should be groundless, or 
even grounded in error. It is only 
necessary that a theosophy, to be theo- 
sophical, should proceed upon the 
method above said, whatever the out- 
come of such procedure may be. 
Theosophy requires consistency with 
nothing but itself ; perhaps no man's 
theosophy is exactly like that of any 
other man. A man may be sadly mis- 
taken in much simpler matters than 
the fundamental problems of religious 
philosophy ; and ii fortiori his theo- 
sophy may be all wrong. He may be 
hallucinated; but, if his hallucinations 
appeal to him with the force of fact, 
he is a genuine theosophist. His 
' ' dream of the shadow of smoke' ' is 
thoroughly theosophical if he believes 
it to be true. His trances and ecstasies, 
his rapt contemplations, are theosoph- 
ical as long as they last ; and his 
rhapsodies concerning them are not 
necessarily fictitious. 

If one imagines that he sees God 
and has converse with a celestial hier- 
archy, — so he does, " theosophically" 
speaking, as long as he remains in 
that particular state of mind. But 
there can be no objective evidence of 
the verity of a subjective condition ; 
the witness in the case is competent to 
testify only in the court of his own 
soul, from which there is no appeal to 
the reason or the senses of any other 
person. Hence it is, in the nature of 
the case, impossible to formulate a 
theosophical creed ; impossible to im- 
part or receive theosophical doctrine; 



impossible to organize an actual theo- 
sophical societj^ ; and, in fact, impos- 
sible to say what theosophy really is. 
If any of these things should prove 
possible, they might be desirable, and 
they might be true enough to some 
extent ; but were they so proven they 
would by that very fact cease to_ be 
' ' theosophical ' ' and become scien- 

So we are confronted with the seem- 
ing paradox, that the truest theosophy 
is most repugnant to the evidence of the 
senses, and rests upon the least possi- 
ble basis of fact. As a matter of fact, 
theosophy is not true; as a matter of 
faith, it is indisputably true; because, 
the proof and the disproof being alike 
wanting, it cannot be called in ques- 
tion. It follows that those who think 
they understand the subject, in an 
intellectual sense, deceive themselves; 
and those who profess to teach any 
formal theosophical doctrine deceive 
others. A shrewdly devised system of 
theosophy lends itself, perhaps more 
readily than any other form of impos- 
ture, to the purposes of knavery and 
charlatanism. Its mystical jargon, its 
mythical phenomena, and its promises 
of marvelous powers attainable — but 
never attained — constitute a machinery 
of delusion whose force of action can- 
not easily be resisted by the ignorant 
and credulous minds against which it 
is directed, and for which the mj^steri- 
ous and the miraculous have boundless 
charms. The trickery which appeals to 
popular superstition is never more for- 
cible, more plausible or more successful 
than when operated in the guise of 
religion. Hence religious impostors 
always select some sort of theosophical 
vagaries as the best means to their 
ends. The case of Blavatsky is by no 
means singular. It is typical of a 
class of cases. She became notorious, 
not because there was anything pecu- 
liar in what she called her theosophy, 
but because of her peculiar talent for 
hoaxing by means of theosophy. The 
same methods of gambling upon popu- 
lar credulity, by strictly theosophical 
pretensions, are adopted and followed 

with more or less success by number- 
less sham reformers, bogus prophets, 
self-styled Messiahs and would-be 
saviors of the world. 

My insistence that theosophy is to be 
judged, not by the truth or the falsity 
of its assumptions, and not by the 
good or bad results of those assump- 
tions, but by the fact that it makes 
certain assumptions, and proceeds 
upon them in a certain fashion, may 
seem so strange — even so absurdly 
' ' theosophical ' ' —that I will fortify 
my contention by citing some recog- 
nized authorities. As already hinted, 
the word "theosophy" has acquired 
by usage a tolerably exact definition 
for students of history and philosophy. 
What is the word taken to signify by 
those best qualified to decide upon its 
meaning? Who have been accepted 
as the world's great theosophists ? 
What manner of persons have they 
been, what did they believe, and 
where can we find an account of their 
views ? 

All the dictionaries before me define 
the word. The Century Dictionary 
seems to me to give the best formal 
and technical definition, which is ac- 
cordingly selected. The etymology 
states that the word is from the low 
Greek theosophia, literally meaning 
"knowledge of divine things," or 
' ' wisdom concerning the things of 
God." Theosophia itself is from the 
Greek theosophos, meaning ' ' learned 
or wise in things divine;" and the 
latter is compounded of theos, " god," 
and sophos, "wise." The definition 
then proceeds as follows : 

"Knowledge of things divine, a 
philosophy based upon a claim of 
special insight into the divine nature, 
or a special divine revelation. It 
difiers from most philosophical sys- 
tems in that they start from phenomena 
and deduce therefrom certain con- 
clusions respecting God, whereas 
theosophy starts with an assumed 
knowledge of God directly obtained 
through spiritual intercommunion, 
and proceeds therefrom to a study 
and explanation of phenomena." 



That is all, — but it is complete. Not 
another word is needed for definition. 
The reader may thus be satisfied that, 
as already claimed, theosophy does 
not depend for its validity upon the 
truth or error of its assumed knowl- 
edge of God, but upon the fact of 
making the assumption of that knowl- 
edge; and that it does not depend 
upon the truth or error of its explana- 
tion of phenomena, but upon the fact 
that it proceeds to study and explain 
phenomena from its own assumed 

In the next place, let us inquire. 
Who are theosophists in any proper 
sense ? Many persons of late have so 
styled themselves. But their names 
are never heard above the din and 
jangle of their own vociferation. A 
few have been recognized as true the- 
osophists b}^ men of great erudition 
and sound judgment. I cite some of 
the historically famous names from 
Braude and Cox's Dictionary of Sci- 
ence, lyiterature and Art : 

' ' Theosophist [is] a name which has 
been given, though without any very 
definite meaning, to that class of mys- 
tical religious thinkers and writers 
who aim at displaying, or believe 
themselves to possess, a knowledge of 
the Divinity and His works by super- 
natural inspiration. * * * The 
best known names at this day of the 
theosophic order are those of Jacob 
Boehme, Madame Guyon, Sweden- 
borg and Saint-Martin. Schilling and 
others, who regarded the foundation 
of their metaphysical tenets as resting 
on divine intuition, have been called 
theosophists, but with less exact- 

Another Encyclopaedia of high re- 
pute (that of Schafif-Herzog, p. 2,348) 
gives a characterization of theosophy 
parallel with the above : 

' ' Theosophy is distinguished from 
mysticism, speculative theology, and 
other forms of philosophy and theol- 
ogy, to which it bears a certain resem- 
blance, by its claims of direct divine 
inspiration, immediate divine revela- 
tion, and its want, more or less con- 
spicuous, of dialectical exposition. It 
is found among all nations, — Hindus, 
Persians, Arabs, Greeks (later Neo- 
Platonism) and Jews (Cabala), — and 
presents itself variously under the form 
of magic (Agrippa of Nettesheim, 
Paracelsus), or vision (Swedenborg, 
Saint- Martin), or rapt contemplation 
(Jacob Boehme, Oettinger)." 

A word from the latest edition of 
the Encyclopaedia Britannica : 

"It is characteristic of theosophy 
that it starts with an explication of 
the divine essence, and endeavors to 
deduce the phenomenal universe from 
the play of forces within the divine 
nature itself." 

Thus neither the authorities cited, 
iior my own investigations of the sub- 
ject, suflSce to explain exactly what 
theosophy is. They rather serve to 
show what it is not, and thus justify 
the title I have selected. Theosophy 
is certainly not the elaborate, concerted 
and grotesque system of imposture to 
which the name now attaches in pop- 
ular apprehension. But just as the 
circulation of a counterfeit implies the 
existence of the genuine coin, and the 
casting of a shadow the presence of 
a substance, so does the very mockery 
of a Blavatsky serve to suggest that 
there may be a theosophy with the 
true ring, worthy of all the name im- 
plies. In essaying to construct for 
ourselves any system of eternal veri- 
ties, let us beware of attempting to 
scale high heaven by ' 'a ladder of lying 


By Lieut. George L. Dyer, U. S. N. 

N the seventh of of Huasco, which lies about three hun- 

January, about one 
year ago, the Chi- 
lean squadron, then 
lying in the harbor 
of Valparaiso, hav- 
ing on board among 
others the Vice- 
President of the Chilean Senate and 
the Speaker of the House of Deputies, 
in defiance of the orders of the Pres- 
ident of the Republic declared itself 
in open rebellion. This was the first 
act of war against the government de 
facto of that country, which resulted 
in the downfall of Jose Manuel Balma- 
ceda, and the cause he endeavored to 
uphold, at the battle of Placilla, seven 
months and a half later. 

The multitudinous incidents which 
led up to this catastrophe have not 
been sufiicientty comprehended by the 
outside world to enable any just ap- 
preciation to be formed of their merits. 
A very well-informed writer in the 
Revue des Deux J\fo7ides, with an un- 
qualified leaning toward the side op- 
posed to the President, and called 
Opositor for that reason, some time 
after the revolt of the squadron stated 
that he could discover no adequate 
reason for the revolution. This was 
the general opinion of the many for- 
eigners of several nationalities whom 
I met during the six months stay of 
the Sa7i Francisco in the several Chi- 
lean ports from Arica to Valparaiso. I 
was never able to find a foreigner, no 
matter how long had been his resi- 
dence in the countr}^ who was able to 
assign any reason satisfactory to him- 
self for the revolt against the authority 
of the President. 

When the San Francisco arrived in 
Iquique on the loth of last May the 
revolutionists had possession of all the 
provinces from the southern boundary 
of Peru as far south as the small port 

dred miles north of Valparaiso. In 
other words, they held about seven 
hundred miles of seacoast, and all the 
nitrate country, which gave them large 
revenues for their undertaking, but a 
somewhat limited field for recruiting. 
They had secured these provinces by 
means of their undisputed control of 
the sea, which made it impossible for 
the President to send large reinforce- 
ments at one time to any of the small 
garrisons in the seaports. With the 
means at their disposal the revolu- 
tionists were able to defeat the small 
detachments of loyal troops in the 
north, and either defeat or drive out 
of the country, into Peru, Bolivia 
and Argentina, the reinforcements 
which were landed at various points. 
After seven sanguinary fights, ending 
with the battle of Pozo Almonte, but 
a few miles from Iquique on the rail- 
road leading to the nitrate factories 
the President ceased to dispute the 
possession of these provinces, with- 
drew his last expedition to Coquimbo, 
and addressed himself entirely to the 
task of preparing to receive his ene- 
mies in the provinces, except Coquim- 
bo, connected with the capital by rail. 
He never relinquished the intention 
of making an aggressive campaign, 
but the means of transportation at his 
disposal were so inadequate that he 
could do nothing further until the 
arrival of the two small cruisers build- 
ing in France. These, with the two 
torpedo cruisers Lynch and Condell, 
the transport Imperial of the Chilean 
Company subsidized b}^ the Chilean 
Government, and a large and fast Ital- 
ian steamer purchased in Buenos 
Ayres just at the close of hostilities, 
would have put his naval force on 
terms of equality with his adversaries. 
Their agents in Europe were very suc- 
cessful in delaying the departure of 




the cruisers, and contributed materi- 
ally to the downfall of the President 
by this means. 

The revolutionists in Iquique also 
felt that their success depended on an 
aggressive campaign, which they knew 
must be undertaken before the arrival 
of the Presidentes, as the cruisers were 
called, Presidente Errdzuriz and Presi- 
de7ite Pinto. 

The flagship San Francisco 
reached Iquique just as the 
telegraph announced the es- 
cape of the Itata from San 
Diego and the pursuit by 
the Charleston. The Chilean 
naval officers were much de- 
pressed by this news. Their 
prospects at this time were 
not flattering. As a result 
of the several battles and a 
careful collection of all the 
firearms in the provinces 
under their control, they had 
gathered about four thou- 
sand rifles of various make 
and caliber, for which they 
could manufacture ammuni- 
tion in Iquique. They had, 
it is true, about four thou- 
sand Mannlicher rifles which 
had been taken from a trans- 
port about the time they left 
Valparaiso; but they had no 
ammunition for these arms, 
and no prospect of getting 
any for some time. They 
had counted on the arms to 
be brought by the Itata, and 
they felt that their cause 
would be seriously imper- 
iled by the attitude of the 
United States. 

Immediately after the success of 
Pozo Almonte, and the practical relin- 
quishment of further efforts on the 
part of the President to secure a 
foothold in the north, there had 
been considerable enthusiasm among 
the lower classes, and many joined 
the army. When it became evident 
to these men that there were no arms, 
no ammunition and no clothing, prac- 
tically, and the prospect of getting any 

was very indefinite, they deserted in 
large numbers, so that in May the 
leaders of the revolution, especially 
after the receipt of the news of the 
Itata, were much discouraged. Ad- 
miral Brown immediately set about 
informing himself thoroughly of the 
whole situation. He was indefatigable 
in visiting every point and in commu- 
nicating constantlv with the leaders of 

Map of the Seat of War. 

the revolutionary' movement. They 
put him in full possession of all the 
facts relating to their position, their 
expectations, and their plans for the 
future; and there can be no possible 
doubt at this time of their entire con- 
fidence in his absolute neutrality and 
their satisfaction at his perfectly im- 
partial attitude. When the official 
news of the sailing of the Itata was 
received, and it was known all over 
the world that the United States ships 



were ordered to capture and return her 
to San Diego, as a result of his previ- 
ous negotiations the Junta immedi- 
atel}- wrote to Admiral Brown that 
the Itata, with all the arms and am- 
munition taken from the Robert aiid 
Min?iie, should be delivered to the 
United States just as soon as she 
could be communicated with, and that 
the Admiral should determine the 
manner and time of her delivery. 

This practically closed the Itata in- 
cident, as it was quite evident that 
the Junta was acting in good faith. 
The arrival of the Baltimore with 
Admiral McCann, the subsequent 
coming of the Charleston, made no 
change in the arrangements already 
perfected. The Itata was delivered in 
the manner agreed upon, and the revo- 
lutionary Junta saw her depart with 
many misgivings, as it delayed the 
day of aggressive operations indefi- 
nitely. The insurgent press had been 
quite moderate until the arrival of the 
Itata in Iquique. As soon as it be- 
came evident that the United States 
was thoroughly in earnest, its tone 
changed to one of hostilit5^ finding 
fault with our Government for its ac- 
tions, and making an outcry at what 
it called the great force displaj-ed to 
bully a weak power which claimed to 
be fighting for constitutional liberty. 
From that time until the present the 
Chilean press devoted to the revolu- 
tion has not ceased its adverse criti- 
cism of the attitude of the United 
States, nor refrained from attacking 
the officers of our Government who 
have been the civil and naval repre- 
sentatives at the capital and in the 
waters of Chile. 

Earh' in June the squadron dis- 
persed, the San Frayicisco, after a short 
visit to Arica, stopping at Pisagua, 
went south to Coquimbo, visiting the 
ports of Antofagasta and Caldera. A 
good opportunity was thus presented 
to study thoroughly the position and 
resources of the revolutionists, which 
at this time were about as follows : 
There were in Iquique less than two 
thousand men under arms. At all the 

other ports together there were not 
three hundred men. Recruiting had 
stopped, practicall}-, and there were 
constant desertions. The sales of 
nitrates brought in a large supply of 
money, which gave and supported 
credit abroad, and made the continu- 
ance of the struggle possible. Large 
supplies of provisions came to Iquique, 
so there was no lack of food. Clothing 
was scarce, and so were arms and am- 
munition. The squadron was kept on 
the alert by the torpedo cruisers Lynch 
and Condell, and the officers and crews 
were prettj^ well disheartened by the 
prospect of an indefinite extension of 
their wearing but necessary vigilance. 
The Opositores in hiding in the south 
were complaining of their lack of en- 
terprise. A movement of some kind 
was urged to give new life to the 
cause. The leaders were accused of 
tarrj'ing in their position of absolute 
security for the purpose of enjoying 
for a longer period the fat revenues 
from the sales of nitrates, while their 
fellow revolutionists in the south 
claimed that the}^ were being perse- 
cuted in all sorts of fiendish ways by 
the tj^rant Balmaceda. 

The revolutionarj^ Junta had deter- 
mined, therefore, to move before the 
arrival of the Presidejites, relying 
upon disaffection in the Government 
armj^ and the accession of large num- 
bers favorable to their cause as soon 
as they could effect a landing at some 
point near, or south of, Coquimbo. 
As it was the inclement season, and 
the men lacked proper clothing, it was 
desirable to put off the movement 
as long as possible. 

The desert of Atacama separates the 
nitrate regions of Chile from the agri- 
cultural portion. It was impossible for 
the President to send an expediiion by 
land across this impassable barrier, or 
for the friends of the revolution to join 
the army at Iquique, except as fugitives 
in the north-bound steamers. Many 
succeeded in eluding the vigilance of 
the authorities, and reached Iquique in 
this wa^^ A few crossed the Andes 
into Argentina, and recrossed again 



into the province of Copiapo and at 
other points, suffering many hardships 
and undergoing much danger in the 
effort. These men, who, as a rule, 
belonged to the best families in Chile, 
were eagerly welcomed and given 
positions at once in the army. 

The difficulties of getting out of the 
country precluded the possibility of 
sending any men for the ranks from 
the south. These were recruited en- 
tirely from the nitrate works and mines 
of the north. 

As the flagship went slowly south it 
was seen that the hold of the revolu- 
tionists on the ports south of Iquique 
was a very weak one. All were prac- 
tically defenseless. Only the limited 
resources of the President for trans- 
portation prevented his sending troops 

and men as a body had gone with the 
revolution, while the rank and file of 
the army had remained loyal. The 
few naval officers who were not carried 
away by the tide of feeling did splen- 
did service for their chief, and con- 
tributed their full share in sustaining 
his authority. The difficulties they 
had to overcome in getting engineers 
and machinists to handle and care for 
the complicated machinery of the tor- 
pedo cruisers, in training men to work 
the torpedoes and machine guns, and 
the risk they ran at all times from a 
very vigilant and merciless enemy, can 
scarcely be understood. They had 
agreed among themselves, at the com- 
mencement of the war, to limit their 
duties to the transportation of troops 
and material, and had made that stip- 


Caldera, Showing- Site of Wrecl< of "Blanco Encalada." 

to all of these places. His one trans- 
port, the Imperial, could carry but two 
regiments, two thousand men at most; 
and these could be overwhelmed, long 
before reinforcements could arrive, by 
the troops from Iquique with the aid 
of the squadron and the seven or 
eight efficient transports in the hands 
of the revolutionists. The Imperial 
with the two torpedo cruisers succeeded 
in eluding the vigilance of the squad- 
ron on several occasions ; but it was 
always an extremely hazardous opera- 
tion and they had many narrow escapes. 
It may be said here that the three 
vessels forming the flotilla of the 
Government were extremely well 
handled. The defection of the squad- 
ron had deprived the President of the 
assistance of the navy. The officers 

ulation with the President, who then 
approved of their decision. After the 
attempt of a launch from the Blanco 
E^icalada to destroy the Imperial with 
a torpedo, in the harbor of Valparaiso, 
in the early part of the difficulty, they 
saw their generosity would not be ap- 
preciated, and henceforth they treated 
their opponents as enemies. After the 
destruction of the Blanco Encalada in 
the harbor of Caldera by the torpedo 
cruisers, their officers knew well 
enough that if caught their lives would 
be forfeited at once. With one excep- 
tion they impressed the officers of the 
American ships as being brave, intel- 
ligent, capable and very modest men, 
who were fully aware of the risks of 
their position, but who were entirely 
honest and earnest in their belief in 



the justice of the President's cause. 
The story of the repeated and success- 
ful efforts of the Imperial under 
Fuentes and Garin to land troops in 
the north, their narrow escapes from 
the revolutionary squadron, and the 
daring and successful attack of the 
Blaiico Encalada by the torpedo cruis- 
ers Lynch and Condell under Fuentes 
and Moraga, makes a ver>^ livelj^ con- 
trast with the operations conducted on 
terra firma. 

At Coquimbo we encountered the 
first troops devoted to the cause of 
the President. It was evident at once 
that the prepa:;ation, the efficiency 
and the enthusiasm of these men were 
far greater than of those we had just 
seen. It was then believed that the 
first landing of the revolutionists 
would be made at this point. Believ- 
ing this, the President had concen- 
trated a fine division of about nine 
thousand men of the three arms in 
the province of Coquimbo, making 
it sufficiently strong to protect itself 
without hope of assistance. The coun- 
try between the Bay of Coquimbo 
and the most northern point reached 
by the railroad system of Chile is 
exceedingly rugged and difficult. 
The troops which marched overland 
from Santiago to join the Coquimbo 
division were about two weeks on the 
way. This division, therefore, was 
practically isolated, and understood it 
must stand or fall without assistance 
when the trial should come. 

The condition of these men, whom 
we saw for weeks under all the condi- 
tions possible in that faultless cli- 
mate, was unquestionably fine. They 
were well fed, well dressed and well 
drilled. But few were kept in the cities 
or towns, and these were frequently 
changed. The main body was quar- 
tered in cantonments in the country, 
where the officers and men were con- 
stantly under instruction. They were 
brought together often on a large 
plain to the south of Serena, the 
largest city in that province, for exer- 
cise in sham battles, and to determine 
the rapidity with which they could 

be concentrated. There was no lack 
of enthusiasm, nor was there any 
evidence of disloyalty. The reports 
for July, the month preceding the 
battles, showed no desertions from the 
regular infantry regiment, the Zapa- 
dores, of twelve hundred men, and 
eighteen from the regiment of cavalry 
of four hundred men, these two regi- 
ments making the best and worst 
showing respectively for that month. 

The principal officers of the division 
reconnoitered the whole country thor- 
oughly, and all were heartily wishing 
that the landing would be made in 
that province. Every indication point- 
ed to this, and the American, English, 
German and French squadrons gather- 
ed in the capacious and well-protected 
Bay of Coquimbo to witness the 
expected attack. 

In the early part of July one of the 
revolutionist transports, the Maipo, 
returned to Iquique from a successful 
trip to the Straits of Magellan, where 
she received from a steamer a large 
shipment of arms and ammunition 
sent out from Europe. This acquisi- 
tion restored the flagging spirits of the 
insurgents, who immediately renewed 
their recruiting with great vigor and 
success. The enthusiasm spread among 
the laboring population of that region, 
and in a comparatively short time 
their force had reached the respectable 
figure of nearly five thousand men, 
whom they were now able to arm as 
fast as enrolled. They organized the 
force into a division of three brigades 
of infantry, with a small force of cav- 
alry and artillery, and pushed ahead 
their preparations for the coming expe- 
dition with great rapidity. In their 
organization and instruction they 
owed much to a German officer named 
Korner, who had been in the General 
Staff of the German army. Korner 
had been recommended to the agents 
of the Chilean Government in Europe 
before the war as a suitable instructor 
for the advanced course of tactics and 
strategy the President desired the offi- 
cers of the army to pursue. At the 
outbreak of the revolution it was sup- 



posed he would remain neutral, but he 
soon joined the Junta atlquique, and 
placed himself at their disposal. He 
seems to have acted with great tact 
and modest3% overcoming gradually 
the natural prejudices of the superior 
ofl&cers against himself as a foreigner, 
and against the new system he labored 
to introduce. The Chileans still ad- 
hered to the old-fashioned style of 
fighting in close order, and depending 
largely on the use of the bayonet. 
After great efforts Korner succeeded 
in convincing the most obstinate that 
with modern arms this system was out 
of date; and by the exercise of extra- 
ordinary patience he appears to have 
won the respect and affection of all. 

As Chief of Staff, the place for 
which he was eminently fitted, by in- 
telligence, education and experience, 
he contributed more than any one 
man to the phenomenal success of the 
Chilean revolution. 

The agents of the Junta in Europe 
were unable further to delay the de- 
parture of the Presidentes, and it be- 
came necessary to make the long 
premeditated start. In the latter part 
of July, therefore, the first movement 
was made to Caldera, roughly speak- 
ing four hundred miles north of Val- 
paraiso. At this time, after much 
study and many discussions, and by a 
vote of the principal officers, the 
determination had been reached to 
attack the Balmaceda division at Co- 
quimbo. About all the available men 
north of Caldera had been gathered 
up without crippling the nitrate indus- 
try. This was necessary for the 
revenues, and the interference with it 
would have brought about complica- 
tions with the English, the principal 
owners of the factories. The province 
of Copiapo, of which Caldera is the 
seaport, had not yet been drawn upon 
largely for men; it was but two hun- 
dred miles from Coquimbo, the ob- 
jective point. Caldera would be easily 
protected against incursions from the 
torpedo cruisers, and the mines in that 
region could be stripped of men with- 
out affecting materially the financial 

condition of the revolutionary party. 
There was much enthusiasm here also, 
and the army speedily swelled to 
nearly nine thousand men. Many of 
these landed at Quinteros in their 
civilian clothes, and with but the 
little instruction w^hich the officers 
were able to give during the passage 
down on shipboard. 

While at Caldera information was 
received that a plan had been perfected 
in Santiago, by the revolutionary com- 
mittee in hiding there, to destroy the 
communication between Santiago, 
Concepcion and Valparaiso to prevent 
the concentration of the divisions of 
each at these places. About one hun- 
dred and fifty young men, many of 
them belonging to the best families in 
Santiago, had banded together and 
were all prepared with arms, materials 
and tools to destroy the bridges and 
tunnels, cut the telegraph and tele- 
phone w4res, raise a riot in the capital, 
and prevent the division there from 
going to the assistance of the troops 
at Valparaiso. So certain were they 
of carrying out this scheme that the 
plan of going to Coquimbo was given 
up, and it was determined to land at 
Quinteros, but eighteen miles north of 
Valparaiso, and attack the division at 
the seaport, which was known to be 
numerically less than the revolutionist 
force. I was assured afterwards by a 
member of the Junta that this hazard- 
ous undertaking would not have been 
attempted had they had the slightest 
doubt about the success of the Santi- 
ago conspirators. It would have been 
an inconceivable folly to have landed 
nine thousand more or less undisci- 
pliDcd men at Quinteros in the face of 
more than tw-enty thousand seasoned 
and drilled troops of the Government, 
which could be concentrated in their 
chosen positions, no matter what the 
direction of their opponents' march. 
The conspiracy failed, for the band was 
destroyed at Lo Caiias the day before 
the landing at Quinteros; and there 
was no delay whatever in the concen- 
tration of the Concepcion and Santiago 
divisions in the vicinity of Valparaiso. 



The destruction of the band of guer- 
rillas in the vicinity of Santiago 
at Lo Canas, a ranch belonging to 
one of the leaders of the revolution, 
has been held up to the whole civil- 
ized world as one of the most atrocious 
acts of barbarism ever committed. It 
must be remembered, however, that 
this was a well-organized plan to 
cripple the action of the Government 
at a moment when it would be fighting 
for existence, and by means which 
would inevitably result in the destruc- 
tion of innocent human life. The band 
was attacked, and resisted, and many 
were killed. Others were afterward 
tried by court-martial, confessed their 
guilt, and were executed. The details 
of the attack and execution were re- 
ported as shockingly cruel; but the 
fact of the intention and preparations 
of these j'oung men certain!}- placed 
them outside the category of ordinar>' 

Early on the 20th of August it was 
reported everj'where about Valparaiso 
that the revolutionists had commenced 
at daj^break to land at Quinteros. It 
had been currently rumored also, for 
a number of days before, that the 
landing would be effected within forty- 
eight hours after the cruiser EsDieralda 
should fire three shots off the harbor. 
This was done on the i8th, although 
no one believed it signified anj^thing 
at the time. There had been so many 
falsehoods circulated by both sides, 
with the apparent sanction of the 
highest authorities, that the story of 
the landing at Quinteros was not en- 
tirely credited. To be able to inform 
his Government of the facts at the 
earliest possible ■ moment. Admiral 
Brown got under way in the San 
Francisco and steamed around to 
Quinteros, where he saw the whole 
force of the revolutionists either on 
shore or in scows preparing to land. 
His object being simply to verify the 
report in a general way, he kept at a 
distance during his observ^ation, and 
having satisfied himself of the fact he 
returned to Valparaiso. A dispatch 
in cipher was immediately prepared. 

which I took to the Intendente, Ad- 
miral Viel, for his oflScial authorization, 
this being the scrutiny to which all 
telegraphic messages were subjected at 
that time. The Intendente, who was 
very busy and much excited, as a 
matter of courtesj'- did not require the 
translation of the cipher; and he con- 
sequently could have had no knowl- 
edge of the contents of the dispatch. 
This is all there is of the Quinteros 
incident which has been magni- 
fied to such a degree by the Chilean 

As fast as the troops set foot on land 
at Quinteros they were pushed on to 
the banks of the Aconcagua River, 
some miles in the direction of Val- 
paraiso. Before daylight on the 21st 
the little army was drawn up on the 
northern bank opposite the fords of 
the river, ready to cross when the or- 
der should be given. 

The army of President Balmaceda 
was composed of four principal divi- 
sions : The First or Santiago Division 
of 6, 000 soldiers, commanded by Major- 
General Orozimbo Barbosa ; the Second 
or Valparaiso Division of 7,000 men, 
Brigadier General Jose Miguel Alcer- 
reca; the Third or Coquimbo Division 
of 9,000 men. Colonel Carvallo; and the 
Fourth or Concepcion Division of 
10,000 men, commanded by Colonel 
Daniel Garcia Videla, an approximate 
total of 32,000 men. 

The plan of the President was to 
keep a division in each one of the 
principal centers of population nearest 
to the sea. Serena is the capital of 
the north, Concepcion is the capital 
of the south, and Santiago and Val- 
paraiso are the two most important 
cities of the republic. Valparaiso is a 
seaport, Serena and Concepcion are 
but a quarter of an hour distant from 
the sea, and Santiago can be attacked 
by way of San Antonio or by ssi^y of 
Valparaiso. The other populous cities 
of Chile, like San Felipe, San Fernan- 
do, Curico, Talca, Angel, Rancagua 
and others, are very far back from the 
coast, and there are no practicable 
landing places in their vicinity. 



This was the general plan of national 

Passing now to the plan of militarj^ 
operation, the President took into 
consideration two cases, first, a landing 
at Coquimbo, and, second, a disem- 
barkation at Valparaiso, San Antonio 
or Talcahuano. 

In the first case the Coquimbo 
troops would have to fight without aid, 
and, in the remote contingency of a 
defeat, would have to fall back on San- 
tiago by way of Combarbala, lUapel 
and Calera. In the second case the gen- 
erals had express instructions not to 
risk a battle until the arrival of the 
other two divisions, easilv effected on. 

The concentration of the Santiago, 
Valparaiso and Concepcion divisions 
was intended to avoid the shedding of 
blood. Among the three divisions 
there was a total of 23,000 men. De- 
ducting garrisons, there remained an 
effectual force of 20,000 soldiers, well 
armed, disciplined and provided with 
ammunition. The revolutionists had 
but 9,000 men. It was evident that 
the plan of concentration contemplated 
did not admit of a bloody battle. The 
enormous disproportion of the number 
of troops would have avoided that. 
To bring about the concentration the 
necessary trains were held in Santiago, 
Valparaiso and Concepcion in order to 


Coquimbo from the Land. 

account of the railroads reaching 
Valparaiso, Santiago and Concepcion. 
The divisions of Santiago and Val- 
paraiso could be concentrated in ten 
hours, and that of Concepcion, at 
Santiago, in twenty-four hours, and 
at Valparaiso in thirty. The only di- 
vision that could not be reinforced nor 
come to the aid of the others with 
rapidity was that at Coquimbo. If 
the President had had control on the 
sea he could have sent aid to that 
division, or reinforced others with it, 
in twenty-four hours, but not having 
that control at least fifteen da^^s would 
have been necessary for the march by 
land across mountains, deep gulches 
and high hills. 

transport the disposable forces of each 
division at a moment's notice. A 
cordon of troops, gensdarmes, police 
and pontoniers guarded the railroads 
and bridges of strategical importance. 
The telegraph lines were also carefully 

At daybreak on the 20th of August 
the President gave orders, first, to 
General Alcerreca, to advance to the 
Aconcagua River and worry the 
enemy while the three divisions were 
being concentrated; second, to General 
Barbosa to send forward his troops; 
and, third, to bring to Santiago and 
Valparaiso the Concepcion division. 
Alcerreca moved a portion of his di- 
vision on the same daj', the 20th, to 



the line of the River Aconcagua, a 
few hours distant from Quinteros. A 
part of the Santiago division, with 
General Barbosa, arrived on the line 
the same day, and before midday the 
first detachment left Concepcion. The 
2oth passed without further change. 

On the 2ist the revolutionary army 
was in Concon, the point where the 
River Aconcagua empties into the sea. 
During the forenoon there was an 
artillery duel, and at noon the battle 

General x\lcerreca concluded to 
fight, although he had in line but 
6,500 men. He waited neither for the 
Concepcion division of 10,000 men 
coming rapidlj^ b}' rail since noon of 
the day before, nor for five battalions 
of the Santiago and Valparaiso divi- 
sions on the march from Viiia del Mar, 
numbering 2,550 men. The rest of 
the Santiago and Valparaiso divisions 
remained in those populous cities to 
keep order. The regiment, Artiller}" 
of the Coast, remained in the forts to 
repulse an attack by the squadron. 

The line of battle occupied by the 
Government troops had four serious 
disadvantages; first, it was near the 
sea and exposed to the fire of the 
ships; second, it could be attacked 
from the rear by troops disembarked 
at Renaca; third, there were deep 
gulches which broke the unity of the 
line and made it impossible for the 
wings to aid each other; fourth, it was 
very extensive, being placed more to 
oppose the passage of the river than 
to engage in battle. 

Add to this that the troops went 
into the fight with only one hundred 
rounds per man; that the service of the 
ammunition train was made ver>' diSi- 
cult; that the artillery for this reason 
was very soon out of ammunition; 
that the cavalry had very little oppor- 
tunity for action; and that the question 
of command between the generals had 
not been definitely decided. 

The fact is the battle of Concon was 
fought contrary to instructions. The 
line chosen by the President was that 
formed by the heights of Vina del 

Mar, and not by the River Aconcagua; 
and the incidents were precipitated 
because the generals did not wait for 
the large reinforcements rapidly com- 
ing to them. 

To keep the public order after the 
defeat it was necessary to leave in San- 
tiago and the south five regiments and 
small detachments of other bodies. 

As a result of the panic produced 
by the rout of Concon, and the natural 
difl&culties of quick concentration, the 
revolutionists could have taken Val- 
paraiso the same day, or at daybreak 
on the 22d, but they were either much 
disorganized or did not wish to take 
the risk. They did not pursue their 
enemy, nor molest him in any way 
during the whole night of the 21st, 
nor during the day and night of 
the 22d. They allow^ed him, without 
opposition, to effect his concentration 
of troops; did not cut the railroad at 
Quilpue, Limache, San Pedro or Quil- 
lota, all less than six hours distant 
from Concon, by cavalry, which would 
have prevented the Concepcion divi- 
sion from reaching Valparaiso. On 
the 22d the}' did not attack Valparaiso, 
practically undefended, as the bodies 
of troops there were badly demoral- 
ized and widely separated. They did 
not even \xy to surprise Quilpue, 
which was the ralljang point of all 
who retired from Concon and who had 
no ammunition. They did not attack 
Fort Callao with the squadron before 
the Government line was established, 
nor did the ships shell the heights of 
Vina del Mar while the Government 
troops were taking their positions very 
slowly. And, finally, the squadron 
did not stop the Lynch, which entered 
the harbor on the night of the 22d, 
bringing 500,000 rounds of ammuni- 
tion from Coquimbo, — a fortunate ad- 
dition, as the troops from Concepcion 
and the others also had scarcely one 
hundred rounds per man. 

At 6 o'clock p. M. of the 2 2d the 
last detachment of the Concepcion 
division arrived. In the mean time, 
from themorning of the 22d, the revo- 
lutionists rested in their position in 



front of Vina del Mar. The most ad- 
vanced troops exchanged shots occa- 
sionally, and now and then made a 
weak feint at attacking. 

At daylight on the 23d the smoke 
of the large campfires fixed the ex- 
tremes and depth of both lines. The 
right of the revolutionary army ex- 
tended to the sea. Back of it were 
a series of ravines which form the 
skirts of the rugged hills of the coast 
range. The center and left rested on 
the heights which, commencing almost 
at the seaside, surround the town of 
Vina del Mar towards the interior 
limit of the creek of the same name. 

The army of the Government ex- 
tended from Fort Callao along the most 
elevated crests of the heights of Vina 
del Mar. The right wing projected 
beyond the main line to prevent an 
advance on Valparaiso, on the side of 
lyas Zorras. Fort Callao is situated 
on the top of a large knob which 
touches the sea on one side. Behind 
it lies the town of Viiia del Mar. On 
ihe side of the sea the position was de- 
fended by two nine-inch guns. All of 
the field artillery of the Government, 
consisting of sixteen Krupp pieces 
and two Hotchkiss revolving guns, 
was placed outside of the range of the 
guns of the squadron. Both armies 
were separated by the creek and town 
of Vina del Mar. 

At sunrise the squadron, composed 
of the Cochrane, Esyneralda, O' Hig- 
gins and Aconcagua, was lying off 
Concon, although not visible to the 
naked eye. At 7:10 a part of the 
Government field artillery commenced 
firing, and this was shortly afterward 
returned. The squadron then ad- 
vanced, and Fort Callao fired the first 
shot at about 8,000 yards. The artil- 
lery fight became general, and the 
infantry of both armies looked on in 
silence. The shots of the revolution- 
ary squadron and artillery destroyed a 
few houses in Miramar. The three 
hundred discharges only wounded 
four people slightly. 

The artillery of the Government 
under Colonel Fuentes fired effectively 

in return; and after a cannonade of 
about two hours the revo'mtionists fell 
back rapidly. The squadron, evidently 
disinclined to take risks, followed this 
example, withdrawing to Concon. 
During the bombardment the other 
four forts in the harbor assisted Fort 
Callao whenever practicable. 

In view of the strong position held 
by the Government troops the revo- 
lutionists modified their plan of as- 
saulting Valparaiso from the side of 
Vina del Mar, and employed the re- 
mainder of the day in breaking up 
their line of battle and concentrating 
upon their rear guard. The torpedo 
cruiser Lynch left her moorings, and 
for a short time, under the protection 
of Fort Callao, bombarded the heights 
occupied by the revolutionists. The 
squadron paid no attention to her. 

The whole of the 23d was passed by 
the revolutionists in making feints 
with their advance guard to cover the 
actual concentration of the main 
body. It looked as if they meant to 
retire to Concon, but in reality they 
did not abandon their positions. In 
the mean time the artillery belonging 
to the Concepcion division left Quil- 
pue with its large train of ammuni- 
tion, and arrived by rail at Valparaiso, 
passing very near the left flank of the 
enemy. The cavalry of the Concep- 
cion division never reached Barbosa's 
army. While on the march from 
Quilpue one squadron of two hundred 
lancers and the commanding oflScer 
deserted, taking the road to Concon, 
and joined the cavalry of the enemy. 
The remainder, unable to join Barbosa, 
returned to Quillota. 

At daybreak on the 24th the army 
of Barbosa still kept the position of 
the night before. The revolutionists, 
on the contrary, while preserving the 
appearance of maintaining their line, 
were really making movements hidden 
by the hills. The fact that neither 
army nor squadron made any hostile 
manifestation awoke suspicion in the 
minds of the staff of General Barbosa, 
and a series of reconnaissances in force 
were immediately commenced and 



carried on during the whole day. 
These demonstrated absolutely that the 
revolutionists were going from Vina 
del Mar towards Salto and Quilpue. 
It was certainly proved that General 
Canto left no troops on his line on the 
23d, and that he was definitely march- 
ing around the hills toward Quilpue. 
It was generally agreed also that the 
enemy had commenced a movement 
around Valparaiso in order to attempt 
to enter without firing a shot after 
having deceived the Government army 
by movements, apparently disorderly, 
and of double strategical signification. 
As the rain continued falling heavily, 
it was resolved to wait until the fol- 
lowing morning before undertaking 
definitely the march b)^ the right flank. 
Barbosa's troops slept at their posts 
exposed to the bad weather, while the 
revolutionists sent their troops down 
from the heights and lodged them in' 
the houses and pretty suburban cot- 
tages at Quilpue. 

On the morning of the 26th the 
weather was beautiful. A council of 
war of the commanding ofiicers was 
held at Barbosa's headquarters. Plans 
were analyzed, the reports of all the 
reconnaissances were read, the officers 
who had made them were heard, and 
it was agreed to commence the march 
on Placilla during the afternoon. To 
deceive the enemy it was determined 
to leave burning the usual campfires 
and to conceal the line of march as 
much as possible by means of the in- 
equalities of the country. . Profound 
silence was guarded, the soldiers were 
kept from smoking, and the cavalry 
was kept at some distance from the 
infantry. The artillery was put on the 
railroad trains at Vina del Mar and 
transported to Valparaiso, to be sent 
in the morning to occupy the hills 
back of the city, which lie in front of 
Placilla. It was ordered also that a 
small detachment of infantry and ar- 
tillery should occupy Placilla and the 
hills around during the night to pre- 
vent any unforeseen advance of the 
revolutionists. In order to under- 
stand better the situation, it will be 

useful to describe the theater of opera- 
tions of both armies. 

General Canto's troops marched on 
the arc of a circle which, starting 
from Viiia del Mar, followed the rug- 
ged hills of Salto, crossed the eleva- 
tions of Quilpue, passed through the 
town of the same name, and then fell 
with a gradual slope through the fine 
plantations of Las Palmas and La 
Cadena, and entered Placilla along the 
skirts of the low hills which continue 
through Las Tablas to Laguna and 
Valparaiso. The army of Barbosa 
took the chord of this arc, marching 
by the right flank. It had to ascend 
and descend very large and deep 
gulches, cross a swamp and reach 
Placilla through the plantation of La 

The strategical importance of Pla- 
cilla is seen at once. It is the key to 
Valparaiso. All the roads that lead 
from the coast join in this village. An 
army that does not assault Valparaiso 
at Viiia del Mar, aided by troops 
landed at La Laguna, also at the sea- 
side, must of necessity go through 
Placilla. This is the junction of roads 
leading out of Salto, Quilpue, Vina 
del Mar, Casa Blanca, and of all the 
towns extending towards Melipilla 
and Santiago. In a word, the army 
which is master of Placilla is master 
of Valparaiso. It will be readily un- 
derstood, therefore, why both armies 
marched in great haste to occupy this 

The army of Barbosa commenced its 
march at 3:30 P. m. from the right 
wing. The ground was moist, 
swampy part of the way, with danger- 
ous footing here and there, and with 
deep holes filled with water. It soon 
became dark, and the night was black 
and damp. The moon did not rise 
until 2 o'clock on the following morn- 
ing. The troops marched silently 
along, overcoming great diflBculties in 
climbing up and down deep gulches, 
following paths flanked by dangerous 
precipices, in crossing muddy bottoms, 
in passing through marshes and pools 
of stagnant water, in groping through 



dense woods, and in marching in single 
file through the great swamp on the 
plantation La Ceniza. 

Just at daylight on the 27th the stafif 
of Barbosa reconnoitered, and proved 
that the enemy was encamped on the 
plantation La Cadena, a short dis- 
tance from Placilla. The mass of 
his troops was hidden in breaks in the 
low hills, the cavalry was in plain 
sight, and the artillery in position. 
During the whole of the 27th each 
army was studying the positions of 

depth, being about fifteen hundred 
yards from the extreme of one flank 
to the other. The main road from 
Placilla to Valparaiso, which the 
enemy would take, passed nearlj- 
through the center of the line. The 
infantry extended on both sides of the 
road. The left reached to the road of 
Las Zorras, where it was protected by 
a deep gulch. The right extended to 
another deeper gulch separating the 
ridge running towards Laguna from 
the hills immediately back of the port 

■i^rt -^^tx:- 

A— Government Artillery'. 

The Battle Field. 

B — Scene of Action. 

c— Anti-Government Forces. 

its adversary. Those of Barbosa were 
excellent, dominating the enemy. 

Placilla, a small village with a few 
houses, a few outlying cottages and as 
many ranches, lies at the foot of the 
heights back of Valparaiso, being thus 
between the two armies. It occupies 
a low space between the gentle accli- 
vities and broad ridges upon which 
the revolutionists were posted, and the 
more rugged hills forming the heights 
in rear of the port. 

The army of Barbosa occupied a 
line of small extent and considerable 

of Valparaiso. The flanks were pro- 
tected, therefore, by two deep fissures 
which could be passed only with care 
and without resistance. The artillery 
was distributed in three parts. One 
body was near the center but towards 
the right, on a hill near the main road 
to Placilla. Another body was near 
the center also, but towards the left, 
on a commanding hill, and a little to 
the rear of the first body. The third 
body was on a small hill towards the 
right, overlooking the left wing of the 
enemy and a portion of the gulch 



upon which rested the right of Bar- 
bosa's army. The cavalry was in that 
part of the main road which descends 
to Valparaiso, where it was under 
cover from the fire of the enemy, and 
at the same time very near to the infan- 
try. The reserve was stationed on the 
ridge near the main road, in that part 
of it which descends to Valparaiso. 

At break of day, and after the dis- 
sipation of the light morning fog, 
Barbosa's staff noticed that the revo- 
lutionary army had advanced its line 
to the slopes and hills nearest the 
heights occupied by the Government 
forces. At half-past seven the order 
was given to Colonel Fuentes to open 
fife with the artillery. This officer, 
who was apparently the liero of the 
day, directed a portion of the artillery 
to engage the revolutionary artillery, 
reserving for himself the fire on the 
advancing infantry. A few moments 
afterward the artillery and the skir- 
mishers of Canto commenced firing, 
and the action became general. For 
an hour and a half the firing was in- 
cessant, but the troops on both sides 
maintained their original positions. 
Suddenly the second regular regiment, 
which had been in reserve, when or- 
dered to support the left wing, deployed 
in fine shape under fire, and then, 
throwing up the butts of their rifles, 
deserted to the enemy. Other battal- 
ions at once commenced to retire in 
disorder, followed by a portion of the 
artillery. The retreat left the guns of 
Fuentes completely uncovered, and 
the main road to Placilla entirely 

When the revolutionists saw this 
sudden and unexpected retreat they 
advanced rapidly with their right. A 
part of their cavalry advanced also by 
the main road very slowly, and soon 
reached the rear of the Government 
line. Finding no resistance, as the 
troops charged with the defense of 
this i)oint had retired, they obliqued 
toward the Government right until 
they met Generals Barbosa and Al- 
cerreca, who were personally directing 
the defense of the artillery of Fuentes. 

A few moments before this Colonel 
Fuentes had retired on account of a 
wound in the face. After a short 
struggle, during which both Generals 
were killed, further resistance be- 
came impossible, and the disorgan- 
ized remnants of the army dispersed 
in the direction of Valparaiso. Officers 
and soldiers both agreed that the bat- 
tle was lost by the defection of entire 
corps, which either did not fight or 
fired only a few volleys. It is calcula- 
ted that but little more than half of 
the army actually took part in the 
fight. This is the only explanation of 
the fact that none, or few, superior 
officers were wounded or killed, for 
the battle was fought in a limited 
space, completely in the zone of fire. 
Without doubt, however, there were 
in all the corps officers and soldiers 
who remained loyal and faithful to 
their duties. 

At 10:30, after three hours of strug- 
gle, the fight was won, and the victors 
advanced to Valparaiso. The number 
of killed and wounded was great, 
nearly 5,000 being afterward treated 
in the hospitals of Santiago and Val- 

There was a most unaccountable 
lack of plan on the part of the Gov- 
ernment. The terrain in the general 
vicinity of Valparaiso had not been 
carefully reconnoitered. The chief-of- 
staff of General Alcerreca had made 
a reconnaissance toward Quinteros a 
few days only before the landing. 
There was but one practicable road in 
that direction, and that was not in 
good condition. The country was 
very rugged, and the topography in 
detail was unfamiliar to the offi- 

There had been apparently no prep- 
aration of roads or paths to enable 
rapid concentration of troops any- 
where off the line of the railroad, or 
to facilitate the movement of supplies 
of ammunition or food. This would 
not have been a difficult matter, as 
the only practicable landing places 
for invading troops are quite near 



The line of defense chosen by the 
President extended along the heights 
overlooking the railroad from Viiia 
del Mar, having Fort Callao for the 
protection of the left flank. This is 
an impregnable position, with all the 
advantages a general could demand. 
There is no doubt that both Generals 
Alcerreca and Barbosa had definite 
instructions not to bring on a battle 

A Chilean Soldier. 

until the whole army should be con- 
centrated on this line. Out of range 
of the guns of the squadron, and with 
inexhaustible supplies within reach by 
rail, there could have been little doubt 
of the result. 

General Alcerreca reached the field 
of Concon with a portion of his di- 
vision quite early on the 20th, the 
same day of the landing at Quinteros. 
Barbosa arrived later in the day, but 
did not actively assume command. A 

member of his staff asked him how 
he liked the disposition of the troops, 
and he expressed himself as not 
pleased. There was an evident cool- 
ness between the two Generals, and no 
concert of action whatever. Some 
members of the staff endeavored to 
have carried out the President's orders 
directing a strategic retreat towards 
Vina del Mar, holding the enemy in 
check as much as possible, so as to 
give time for the arrival of the Con- 
cepcion division. This effort did not 
succeed. The President evidently had 
some intimation that matters were not 
going altogether well, for he tele- 
graphed to the field to know if Barbosa 
were there, and, on being informed 
that he was, immediately sent word to 
both Generals ' ' to work together. ' ' 

There was no concert of action, 
however, no council of war, and mat- 
ters drifted along until the army was 
hopelessly engaged by the exceedingly 
vigorous and enterprising enemy, and 
then it was too late to withdraw. 

Both Generals made the fundamen- 
tal error of underrating the enemy. 
Previous to the landing, in a council of 
war at Santiago, Barbosa had opposed 
the idea of sending more than three 
thousand troops from the capital, in 
case of an invasion near Valparaiso, 
to aid Alcerreca' s division. The latter 
officer expressed himself frequently in 
terms of unmeasured contempt in re- 
gard to officers, men and arms of the 
revolutionary army; and before the 
action of Concon had commenced both 
Generals were heard to say that the 
revolutionists were evidently an ill- 
equipped and undisciplined mob which 
would be scattered at the first onset. 

As afterwards happened at Placilla, 
the artillery was not properly support- 
ed at Concon; and the left wing was 
so placed that it was readily flanked 
l^y troops which approached unseen. 
The whole line of Government troops 
was exposed to the fire of the squad- 
ron; and although the losses from this 
cause were small, the demoralizing 
effect of screaming, bursting shells was 
undoubtedly great. 



The Government troops went into 
the action of Concon having practi- 
cally fasted from the day before. This 
was represented to the Generals, but 
no steps were taken to feed the men, 
■and they consequently fought under 
that additional and fatal disadvantage. 
The whole transport and commissariat 
service was ridiculouslj^ inadequate, 
and the hospital service on both sides 
seems to have been equally inefficient. 

Santiago; and only when the Minister 
of War, a civilian, insisted, after much 
opposition, on a reconnaissance in 
force, which he conducted himself, 
was it known definitely where the 
enemy had gone. 

In fact, only after the arrival of the 
Minister of War does there seem to 
have been any unanimity of action 
and anj'^ spirit of enterprise or activity 
displayed. It was then too late, as a 

After the Battle. 

There were no preparations for sig- 
naling. The whole country is so 
rugged that the, passage of large 
bodies of troops can be readily con- 
cealed from ordinary observation, and 
the use of cavalry for scouting is 
undoubtedl}^ difficult. An efficient 
signal corps would have contributed 
much information after the battle of 
Concon. As it was, the revolutionists 
having cut the railroads and telegraph 
lines, General Barbosa firmly believed, 
for several days, that they had gone to 

profound demoralization was notice- 
able everywhere; and all impartial 
observers considered that the result of 
the next action would leave the revo- 
lutionists in full possession of the field. 
After the battle of Concon and the 
advance on Viiia del Mar, it was the 
desire of some of the leaders of the 
revolutionists to retire to the ships 
and re-embark. The line of the Gov- 
ernment was too strong, and there was 
no uprising in their favor in Val- 
paraiso. Added to this, their troops 



were thinly clad, and their means of 
keeping up communication with the 
ships, their base, were inadequate. 
The advice of the chiefof-stafF, 
Colonel Komer, prevailed, however, 
and the movement around Valparaiso 
was determined upon. This was 
taking a great risk, but the exultation 
of the troops at the result of the first 
battle and the large accessions to their 
ranks of deserters, prisoners and 
stragglers, and the evident discour- 
agement of their opponents, made 
the attempt a very attractive one. 
Without doubt, also, Colonel Kor- 
ner made a shrewd estimate of the 
utter incapacity of the opposing Gen- 

Owing to Korner's influence also 
Canto's ofl&cers were supplied with 
maps of the country surrounding \'al- 
paraiso; and the plan of their opera- 
tions was known and understood by 
all the principal officers. There was 
no confusion in their organization, 
and the}' went about their hazardous 
undertaking in an energetic, practical, 
determined manner, guided evidentl}- 
by one thoroughly acquainted with 
his profession, as understood and 
practiced by soldiers of the present 
day, a striking contrast to the tactics 
of the Government Generals. 

The operations of the squadron 
were not so brilliant. During the 
attack on Vina del Mar on the 2 2d of 
August several of the ships took part 
in the artillery' fight, but were exposed 
very little. There was an evident 
disinclination to take risks, and their 

assistance was of no value. It seems 
to have occurred to them too late that 
the Government might make an effort 
to bring troops from Coquimbo ; for 
the transport Imperial left Valparaiso 
on the night of the 23d, and embarked 
two regiments of the Coquimbo di- 
vision without difficulty. One ship 
could have prevented that. These 
troops were landed in Talcahuano. So 
far as the squadron was concerned 
they might easily have been brought 
into Valparaiso, where they would have 
made a valuable and cheering addition 
to the disheartened troops waiting in 
line of battle. 

The squadron lent no assistance 
during the fight at Placilla, even by 
their presence in force. During that 
battle not a shot was fired from the 
ships at the forts, nor was there any 
demonstration of any kind. 

The battle of Placilla was won. 
Valparaiso occupied, and yet no ships 
appeared. Finally the torpedo boat 
Sargetiio Aldca was .sent out in search 
of the missing squadron, and just at 
dusk the Cochrane appeared. The re- 
mainder came along during the night 
and the next day. 

It must be supposed that the 
months of anxious watching following 
the loss of the Blanco E?icalada told 
somewhat upon the enterprise and 
nerves of the officers of the squadron ; 
for, leaving Coquimbo and Talcahuano 
unwatched, it is difficult othenvise to 
conceive why they did not take a more 
prominent and brilliant part in the 
capture of Valparaiso. 


By Ex-Governor Lionei, A. Sheldon. 

PARTY feeling was aroused to the 
highest pitch at the very commence- 
ment of the session, bj^ the rulings 
of the Speaker, and was subsequently 
exacerbated by a revision of the rules 
of procedure. Great bitterness pre- 
vailed from the beginning to the end 
of that Congress. From this cause 
the political opponents of the majority 
were at no time in a frame of mind to 
treat their work with ordinary fair- 
ness. The partisans of the minority 
readily fell into the same spirit, and 
consequently from one end of the 
country to the other assaults of a 
severe character were made, and de- 
nunciation was unsparing and con- 
tinuous . Its extravagance was assailed 
unremittingly. The appropriations 
were unprecedented in amounts, but 
the assailants have carefully abstained 
from going into details. Had they done 
so, it would appear that much, at least, 
of the increase was for just and worthy 
objects. The work of the majority 
has not been defended as its merits 
deserve. One thing, however, is un- 
denied and undeniable, and it is that 
upon the main issues in the campaign 
of 1888 the majority faithfullj^ exe- 
cuted the commands of the people 
given at the polls. It is not my pur- 
pose to consider the work of that 
Congress in detail or as a whole, but 
that part only which in my judgment 
should receive the approval of the 
entire body of the American people. 

Considered apart from party preju- 
dice or personal or local interests, and 
with reference to the welfare of the 
country as a whole, the economic and 
cornmercial legislation of the Fifty- 
first Congress appears to be the most 
comprehensive, best constructed and 
adjusted of any since the formation of 
the Government, and particularly well 
adapted to the conditions which then 
existed We were buying of foreign 

nations many commodities which we 
ought to have produced; our labor was 
in severe competition with cheap for- 
eign labor; our products were exported 
as raw materials, and brought back as 
fabrics largely enhanced in price by 
the labor which had been bestowed 
upon them, and by the percentages 
paid for transportation and handling. 
We were paying annually an immense 
sum of money for transportation upon 
the sea to foreign ship-owners, and for 
want of a merchant marine were de- 
pendent upon rival commercial nations 
for the development of our export 
trade. Wages was not only imperiled 
by competition with cheap foreign la- 
bor, but forced idleness was rapidly in- 
creasing in the country. Much of our 
exportation was indirect and through 
foreign channels, and balances of 
trade in our favor were less than they 
should have been, and there was dan- 
ger of their becoming adverse. Prac- 
tically we were pajdng more money to 
foreign nations in commercial trans- 
actions than we received from them if 
the sum paid for transportation were 
taken into the account. 

The legislation of that Congress was 
intended to remove the disadvantages 
from which we were suffering, and 
though there may be errors and defects 
in details, the general theory is correct 
and adapted to the ends sought to be 
accomplished. In the tariff law the gov- 
erning principle is to admit free such 
necessaries of life as we cannot prac- 
tically produce ; to impose duties on 
such commodities as we should pro- 
duce, — just high enough to make up 
the difference in the cost of production ; 
which difference was mainly, if not 
altogether, oneof wages paid laborers. 
Exceptions to this general rule were 
the imposition of higher duties upon 
luxuries, and upon certain other arti- 
cles which we did not manufacture, 




for the purpose, merely, of aiding 
those who were disposed to take the 
risk and expense of starting new in- 
dustries, it having been demonstrated 
in past experiences that this policy 
has the effect to enlarge manufactur- 
ing and in a brief time to lessen prices. 
It has also increased the demand at 
home for domestic raw materials and 
food articles. It protects the sugar 
producers by granting a bounty equiv- 
alent to the duty which was removed. 
The agricultural interests are especi- 
ally subserved by the imposition of 
increased duties, and by the enactment 
of a law providing for the inspection 
of exported meats, which removes the 
whimsical reason urged by some of 
the European governments for prohib- 
iting their importation into their coun- 

Congress also recognized the fact 
that demand for our food productions 
was larger and more reliable in the 
countries south on this continent and 
in the adjacent islands, and that in 
Europe it was fluctuating and depend- 
ed upon production there. It is well 
known that European nations exert 
themselves to produce suflSciently to 
feed their own people, and as a rule 
they succeed, except Great Britain, and 
they do not buy of us very much out- 
side of a few articles. On the whole, 
Continental Europe imports, compara- 
tively, limited quantities of breadstuffs 
and provisions. Great Britain realizes 
that she is unable to produce enough 
at home to supply her own people, but 
she has dependencies which are our 
competitors and to which she gives the 
preference. She endeavors to obtain 
from them all she can, and though 
she is our best European customer she 
buys from us much that is trans- 
shipped to countries with which our 
trade should be direct. Apparently, 
Great Britain had theretofore fur- 
nished Brazil with more agricultural 
products than we, notwithstanding 
our imports from Brazil had been 
large. A considerable part furnished 
by Great Britain came from this coun- 
tr}'. Though Cuba is but a short sail 

from the United States, she bought 
comparatively little of us. The duties 
imposed by Spain were so high that 
they enabled Andalusia and other 
agricultural provinces of that country 
to supply the Cuban demand. In one 
way or another we were cut off from 
or embarrassed in our trade with the 
very countries most convenient to us, 
and with which we ought to have had 
the largest export trade. Our wages 
being higher than European, and our 
industries more limited, we were un- 
able to successfully compete in the 
southern countries, as well as being 
obliged in some lines to purchase from 
our commercial and manufacturing 
rivals. To avoid the latter, encour- 
agement is given to new industries; 
and to assure what naturally belongs 
to us, reciprocity was adopted as the 
finishing feature of the tariff law. The 
theory of reciprocity is, that as we ad- 
mit free of duty certain commodities, 
largely produced in the southern coun- 
tries, it is but just that we should re- 
ceive an equivalent, and that nations 
thus benefited by this legislation 
should concede to us advantages not 
granted to others who do not or can- 
not offer the same benefits that we 
have conferred. Our sugar alone has 
cost us $70,000,000 annually, and it is 
of the highest importance that we 
should pay for it by an exchange of 
commodities. The same applies to 
coffee, tea and hides. Our sugar and 
coffee come largely from Cuba and Bra- 
zil. If we were able to pay for these 
two items by an exchange of produc- 
tions it would make a difference of 
$75,000,000 or $80,000,000 on the 
credit side of our international trade, 
and would cause a very handsome in- 
crease of balance in our favor. If our 
manufactures are in larger varieties we 
will be able to supply more to the na- 
tions with which we have reciprocity 
treaties, as well as to our own people. 
The tariff law, therefore, must have 
the effect to enlarge our exports and 
diminish our imports, and not only to 
keep our gold at home but to draw it 
from other countries. 



The legislation of the Fifty-first 
Congress would lack in comprehen- 
siveness if it stopped here. We would 
still be obliged to pay out our money 
to foreign nations for transportation; 
and our export trade would not be 
developed to the fullest extent with- 
out possessing a suflScient merchant 
marine. We would still be depend- 
ent and could not expect that foreign 
ship-owners would exert themselves 
for us as they would for their respect- 
ive nations. It is hardly human na- 
ture to be thus impartial. Congress, 
therefore, passed acts to encourage 
building and sailing of ships. All 
that is necessary to enable us to com- 
pete with nations that already have 
the control of carrying upon the sea 
may not have been done; but a begin- 
ning has been made, and if followed 
up in future in the same spirit with 
which it has been commenced, sooner 
than expected we may be able to re- 
sume our former status as a maritime 
power. Our own people have busi- 
ness enough to employ a large marine 
force, and it is presumable that our 
countrymen will be preferred, other 
things being equal. It will be some 
time before we possess so many ships 
that any of them will have to lie idle. 
To have a large merchant marine will 
not only tend to increase our export 
trade, — and as we are the greatest pro- 
ducing nation in the world it is the 
most important part of our interna- 
tional commerce, — but it will give 
profitable employment to our idle pop- 
ulation. It supplements the estab- 
lishment of new industries, and aids in 
removing involuntary idleness from 
the country. With reciprocity and a 
merchant marine our international 
commerce will be essentially conti- 
nentalized; for not only our agricul- 
tural products, but our manufactures, 
will find their chief demand from 
countries this side of the Atlantic. 
European nations manufacture for 
themselves, and depend more largely 
on the American nations for markets 
than upon other parts of the world. 
The countries south of us do not man- 

ufacture to any considerable extent, 
and natural conditions will prevent 
their being formidable rivals in that 
respect. The United States alone is 
able to compete in manufacturing in- 
dustries and in commerce with the 
nations of Europe; and as a producer 
of raw materials and of breadstuffs 
and provisions we now occupy the 
first position. The struggle, there- 
fore, is for the trade of the States in 
Central and South America and the 
adjacent islands. The policy of reci- 
procity grasps this question, and is 
not only an entering wedge to that 
trade, but if continued the result can- 
not be otherwise than immensely in 
our favor. 

It is essential to consider the further 
fact, that in those southern countries, 
and not in Europe, the balance of 
trade has been adverse to this country, 
though it appears otherwise, because 
international trade accounts are set- 
tled in lyondon, which is the clearing- 
house of the world. We read of 
frequent shipments of gold to Europe, 
but never to the Central and South 
American States; and under this state 
of affairs the British people manage to 
secure to themselves the final balances 
due from whatsoever nation, which 
gives that country its monetary pre- 
dominance. Eondon for long years 
has been and is the monetary center 
of the world. To continentalize our 
trade will tend strongly to break up 
this monopoly, and transfer to this 
country, in considerable part at least, 
the money center. Our territory and 
commerce are so immense and our 
geographical location so peculiar that 
a single center would be inconvenient 
and improbable. Natural conditions 
indicate that the clearing-houses for 
our foreign commerce would be in New 
York on the Atlantic, New Orleans on 
the Gulf, and San Francisco on the 
Pacific Coast. The monopoly of Eon- 
don in handling the money of the 
world not only enriches Great Britain, 
but enables her to dictate the kind of 
money the world shall use in interna- 
tional transactions. Monometalism 



had its inception in that country, 
which is the persistent foe of bimetal- 
ism. So long as Great Britain main- 
tains her trade and transportation 
ascendency she will dictate to her 
advantage the money and monetary 
policy of all nations. It will be easy 
for the American States to agree upon 
a common monetary system; and the 
proposition to establish international 
coinage is a step in that direction. The 
bulk of gold and silver are produced 
on this continent; and to deprive Great 
Britain of the handling of the world's 
gold will quicker and more surely 
than anything else force the adoi:)tion 
of both the gold and silver standards 
of value. The southern countries set- 
tle their balances in gold as money or 
in silver as a commodity. If they 
were settled here, and they will be if 
trade with those countries is properly 
developed, we can dictate the kind 
of money that shall circulate in inter- 
national transactions. Free silver coin- 
age would be the inevitable and speedy 
result, and the narrow and deficient 
single measure of value would no 
longer be a Shylock to production and 

The economic and commercial leg- 
islation of the Fifty-first Congress has 
enemies at home and abroad. The 
former confine themselves to criticisms 
of a few details, and the latter attack 
the principle upon which the structure 
rests. The domestic foes desire to 
accomplish a political object, but_ the 
foreign are hostile because it is a 
serious blow to their interests. The 
enemies at home have not the courage 
to join their allies in the mode of at- 
tack, because the policy is American- 
ism against foreignism. The reverse 
at the first election was brought about 
by continued prediction of disasters, 
and by carping about a few details. 
There had been no demonstration as 
to the efiect of the legislation, because 
there had been no time to produce 
results. The country now has some 
realization of the benefits that will 
flow from it. New industries are 
springing up all over the country, and 

old ones are reviving. Domestic de- 
mand for agricultural products has 
appreciably increased, and employ- 
ment is given to the involuntarily 
idle. Our exports are increasing and 
our imports diminishing, and gold is 
flowing inward instead of outward. 
The short crops in some of the Euro- 
pean countries has had a favorable 
influence upon our general export 
trade, but they have no efiect upon 
that of the countries to the southward. 
The fact that we are importing less 
from and selling more to Europe dem- 
onstrates that we will have the mar- 
kets there for food supplies whenever 
conditions are exceptional, as in case 
of short crops or war. Reciprocity 
treaties have been entered into as yet 
with but few nations. Brazil was the 
readiest to engage with us, but Spain 
was reluctant and would not have 
made concessions if she had not felt 
obliged to. The United States is sup- 
posed to contain about one-twenty-fifth 
of the population of the globe, and yet 
one-seventh of the entire sugar pro- 
duction of the world is consumed here. 
It would not do to deprive Cuba of 
the immense market of this country. 
Germany raises sugar for export, and 
hence she felt obliged to grant as lib- 
eral terms upon commodities imported 
from this country as the stipulations 
of the Dreibund would permit. It will 
require but a year or two to disclose 
the profound wisdom of the measures 
that Congress devised for the promo- 
tion of our industrial and commercial 

This policy is in line with that 
which prevailed from the beginning 
of the Government to the advent of 
Polk to the presidency. The depart- 
ure then taken continued to 1862, and 
would have been restored under Cleve- 
land if Congress had been in accord 
with his views. Conditions two years 
ago were such as to require a broad- 
ening of legislation so as to cover 
reciprocity and to aid the shipping in- 
terests. The legislation of the Fifty- 
first Congress also more clearly 
defined the principle upon which it 



is framed than any that preceded it. 
The labor question in earlier times 
was not so important, as the settlement 
and development of a new country 
opened an avenue for the employment 
of all; and involuntary idleness was 
a thing almost unknown until within 
the last twenty-five years. 

The opponents of the economic pol- 
icy of the late Congress cannot or do 
not seem to understand why we can- 
not manufacture without protective 
duties. There are two reasons, chief 
of which is that labor costs about 
double in this country what it does in 
rival manufacturing nations, and it 
constitutes fully sevent3^-five per cent 
on the average of the cost of produc- 
tion, presenting to this countr}^ the 
alternative of reducing wages or pro- 
tecting labor by adequate imposts. 
The other is that in the old countries 
plants comprehend all classes of man- 
ufacturing, and are well established 
and sustained by acquired patronage. 
In some lines we have no plants, and 
the business must be started de novo, 
which imposes hazards that foreigners 
do not have to take. It is proper that 
some inducement should be offered to 
assure against these hazards. Where 
plants are established the duty need 
be only high enough to make up the 
difference in the cost of labor. Unless 
the principle stated is applied it is 
impossible for our people to have the 
benefit of our own markets. Foreign- 
ers can undersell and still make an im- 
mense profit. 

It is true that our merchant marine 
before the late war had grown to im- 
mense proportions without aid from 
the Government. That was in the 
days of wooden ships. The war of 
the Rebellion destroyed our foreign 
carrying trade, and left us with nothing 
but coastwise trade, in which foreign 
ships are forbidden by law to engage. 
The shipping which passed out of our 
hands amounted to 1,800,000 tons, 

nearly one-half having been sold and 
placed under foreign flags to avoid the 
depredations of Confederate cruisers, 
and the balance was bought or char- 
tered by the Government and worn 
out or lost in the public service, and 
destroyed by the public enemies upon 
the sea. When the war closed it is 
estimated that it would have cost 
$100,000,000 to replace our lost ton- 
nage. Interest rates in this country 
for a considerable time thereafter on 
the average were nearly double those 
prevailing in foreign countries, and 
other nations had the possession of the 
sea. In the face of these disadvantages 
our people could not afford to enter into 
competition so unequal. The obstacle 
of high rates of interest in a measure 
is removed ; but all others remain, 
and one that has not been mentioned 
is that every important commercial 
nation grants liberal subsidies to 
their great steamship lines. .Formerly 
transportation was performed on the 
competitive principle, by single ships, 
but latterly it is carried most largely 
through regularly organized and 
operated lines. The proposition to 
admit foreign-built ships to an Ameri- 
can register so that our people can buy 
them would be some aid; but there 
still remains the contest to gain pat- 
ronage from those who already pos- 
sess it, the difference in wages paid 
seamen, and the liberal subsidies paid 
by foreign governments. Those who 
oppose these measures, unless they 
prefer foreign monopoly in manufac- 
turing and international transporta- 
tion, should suggest those that are 
more efiicacious in building up Ameri- 
can interests or hold their peace. To 
see our labor well compensated and 
dignified, our industries thrive, our 
money retained at home, our country 
dominant as a monetary and political 
power, and our ships doing, at least, 
our own carrying trade, should be the 
desire of every American. 


By M. G. C. EDHOI.M. 

IT was generally supposed that 
slavery was abolished in the United 
States during the administration of 
Abraham lyincoln ; yet, if the facts 
were known, as they will be to the 
reader of the present paper, there ex- 
ists in this country, wherever the Chi- 
nese have obtained a foothold, a 
slavery so vile and debasing that all 
the horrors of negro American slavery 
do not begin to compare with it. In 
San Francisco, Los Angeles, New 
York and other cities where a local 
Chinatown prevails, women and chil- 
dren are sold to the highest bidder 
every month in the year, — not merely 
sold, but imported for the purpose, 
agents being kept in China for this 
object ; and until the Restriction Act 
went into operation they were doing a 
thriving, land-office business. The 
negro of ante-bellum days was a prince 
iu fortune to the luckless Chinese slave: 
the former was sold to work, while the 
latter is selected, bought and handed 
over for a use compared to which 
death would be a happy release. For 
years this system of human slavery has 
been going on. Good men and women , 
representing the various churches, 
have fought it unaided, but it rests 
to-day a stain upon the American flag, 
— a blot upon the national honor ; and 
the object of this paper is to present 
certain aspects of the crime to the law- 
makers of the country, and to ask 
how long such- things can be in a 
country that avowedly offers a refuge 
to the oppressed of all nations. In 
the work of stopping the sale of women 
and young girls in San Francisco, the 
hot-bed of Chinese slavery, especial 
credit is due the Presbyterians and 
Methodists, who have established 
homes for the rescue and education of 
■these girls and women. The annals 
of these institutions rival Shakespeare 
for tragedy; and for dark, damning 

deeds they read more like the records 
of barbaric ages and heathen countries 
than those occurring under the full 
light of Christian civilization. 

These homes are sustained by the 
Board of Missions of these two 
churches, much of the money being 
raised by the Women's Missionary 
societies, — well disproving the old 
adage that "woman is woman's 
worst enemy ; ' ' for these tender-hearted 
women labor night and day for the 
amelioration of their sisters. The rec- 
ords of these two homes show that 
hundreds of little girls and women 
have been rescued from this slavery 
worse than death; and Miss Margaret 
Culbertson and Miss Houseworth of 
the Presbyterian Mission, and Rev. F. 
J. and Mrs. Masters, Mrs. Downs and 
Mrs. Ida Hull of the Methodist Mis- 
sion, and Rev. M. C Harris of the 
Japanese Mission, could a tale unfold 
that would amaze and horrify the 

In following the career of these 
girls after rescue, education and 
Christianization, the sunny side of 
Chinese life is shown; and many a 
pleasing romance of love and court- 
ship, happy marriage and a loving 
home, echoing with the laughter of 
little children, represents the payment 
these workers have received. 

First, in regard to child slavery : 
Fathers, and mothers sometimes, sell 
or pawn their girl babies; and as they 
are seldom redeemed they become the 
absolute slaves of their masters. The 
Chinese mother has little to say as to 
the disposal of her children, who be- 
long to her master; and if he sees fit 
to sell them to others she has no 
choice. One such Chinese woman, 
with her little girl six years of age, 
with a frightened, hunted look, begged 
the protection of the ''Jesus women," 
as they call the Methodist Mission, 




saying that the man who had bought 
her six years before, and with whom 
she had lived, had become tired of the 
delicate, puny child, and had deter- 
mined to sell it, as it hindered her 
from sewing and earning money. She 
clung to her child with all the tenacity 
of a mother's love, and resolved that 
it should be saved to her at all hazards. 
Then he trumped up a charge that she 
had won three hundred dollars by 
gambling, and demanded that she give 
it to him or he would sell the child. 

The poor woman was driven to 
desperation and knew not what to do. 
At this juncture she heard of the 
Mission house, and fled with trembling 
steps to its shelter. 

Her master, Ah Ong, had powerful 
friends, and resolved that he would not 
give her up without a struggle. So 
day by day she was annoyed and 
alarmed by the frequent calls made by 
his friends to speak with her trying by 
every means to persuade her to return. 
To all their entreaties she gave a firm 

At length the Chinese Consul-Gen- 
eral with his attendants, dressed in 
his long silk robes, called for her. She 
begged to be excused, but trembling 
in every limb came and stood in his 
august presence. He, with an air of 
authority, demanded that she return 
for the honor of the Chinese people, 
until he was told that he could only 
ask her, and that no threatening or 
enforcing of Chinese customs would 
be allowed. He then promised her 
protection and a life of ease for herself 
and child. 

She with streaming ej^es and great 
humility, but with determination, told 
him she knew Ah Ong better than 
any one else did, and that she was con- 
vinced that her loved one would be 
spirited away or else suddenly die, and 
if the authorities in the Mission would 
allow her to remain she would never 
return to Ah Ong. Of course per- 
mission was granted. Grace Metho- 
dist Sunday School assumed the 
support of little Ah Kum, the child; 
and thus her mother and herself 

were saved from a life of slavery and 
worse. A little over a year ago Ah 
Kum was married to a Christian China- 

Young Chinese girls are often forci- 
bly kidnaped in China, illegally 
landed in America, and sold to the 
keepers of places of ill-repute; and, of 
the inhuman treatment they receive, 
Miss Culbertson of the Presbyterian 
Mission testifies that these cases sub- 
joined could be muliplied a hundred 
fold. One little slave-girl who was 
being reared for a revolting life was 
obliged to sew from seven o'clock in 
the morning till one o'clock at night; 
and because she would fall asleep 
through exhaustion her ears had been 
cut, her hands burned, and she had 
been beaten and tortured frightfully. 
Another, who had been rescued from 
a life of shame, had her eyes propped 
open with pieces of incense wood be- 
cause they would at times close wear- 
ily in sleep after sitting up through 
long hours. Her eyes were badly 
lacerated and inflamed by the treat- 

The terrible condition of another 
little one, only eight years old, makes 
one's fingers burn to throttle the 
heartless keepers. She was brought 
to the Home by a white person who 
knew she was cruelly treated. Her 
body was in a fearful condition, black, 
blue and green in color. Her head had 
several cuts upon it. Her eyes and 
lips were much swollen, and her handsi 
resembled pin cushions, so badly 
swollen were they. The Superinten- 
dent sent at once for Mr. Hunter of the 
Society for the Protection of Children, 
who said in all the years of labor for 
the rescue of suffering children he had 
never seen anything to equal this 
child's condition, and the woman 
should be arrested for cruelty. With 
Officer Holbrook, Miss Culbertson went 
and had the keeper arrested and sent 
to prison ; but, as usual, she was 
bailed out by one of her countrymen 
for one hundred dollars. 

Miss Culbertson now went to court 
to take out letters of guardianship, 

Ah Kum, a Rescued Slave in War Dress. 



and then showed the child's body to 
the Judge; j^et when her keeper was 
tried and plead guilty she was fined 
the paltry sum of thirty dollars. 

The little girl was the slave-child 
of a firm on Dupont Street. The wife, 
a bound-footed woman, was a perfect 

Fac-simile of a Chinese Woman's Foot. 

fiend in temper. One method of pun- 
ishment was to beat the little thing 
until she was faint, and then to catch 
her by the hair and drag her on the 

Another child had great scars and 
seams up and down her back and upon 
her limbs where she had been burned 
by red-hot irons aad scalded with boil- 
ing water. Sometimes the tortures are 
so terrible and long continued that 
reason becomes dethroned. Sometimes 
their bodies are so diseased by these 
cruelties and privations that the best 
medical care in the Home and the 
most tender nursing cannot prevent 
death ; but still these slave-dealers 
continue their horrible traffic with no 
punishment worthy the name. 

But still worse horrors are in store 
for the little slave-girl as she nears 
womanhood; for then she is forced to 
a life of shame, — the object of all 
Chinese slavejy; and, if she resists, 
all the tortures of the Inquisition are 
resorted to by her cruel masters till 
she gives herself up body and soul. 
No need for the Chinese slave to read 
Dante's " Infsrno." or to see the awful 

horrors of Dore's brush ; for her own 
existence is a living realization of 

Could there be anything more 
pathetic than the stories of these few 
girls, which is the fate suffered by 
thousands ? One girl says : "I was 
brought here eighteen months ago, 
and am twenty years old. I was kid- 
naped in China and brought over 
here. The man who kidnaped me 
sold me for four hundred dollars to a 
San Francisco slave-dealer; and he 
sold me here for seventeen hundred 
dollars. I have been a brothel slave 
ever since. I saw the money paid 
down, and am telling the truth. I was 
deceived by the promise I was going 
to marry a rich and good husband, or 
I should never have come here." 

Another said : "I am seventeen 
years old. I was born in Canton. 
When I was ten years old my parents 
sold me to be a domestic slave. A 
man brought me here, and he returned 
to China, having sold me for five hun- 
dred dollars. I came to this country 
three years ago. My master wanted 
to take me to be his slave, but I resisted. 
I did not want to be his slave. He 
had one wife already." *The Rev. 
F. J. Masters adds in a foot-note, 
"The girl's master, in presence of 
Mr. Young of the Episcopal Mission, 
confessed that his wife bought the girl 
of a woman for $300. ' ' 

Another girl says : "I was sold 
for $2,970; was a slave in a place of 
ill-repute ; never a wife. I escaped 
by running to a more friendly China- 
man, who kept me till night, and then, 
disguised in his American clothes, I 
was taken to a hotel on Bush Street. 
My master traced me and sent a spy, 
who got me into a carriage ; but when 
they tried to take me into a cellar on 
Pacific Street I screamed so that the 
police took me from them." When 
this slave was finally found by the 
Mission people she was in a cellar 
under the pavement, watched over by 

♦See the article on Highbinders, by Rev. F. J. 
Masters, in the January Californian. 



a Chinese master, who was keeping 
her under the influence of drugs. 

In all these sales there is a contract 
made and given, as there would be in 
the sale of a horse or cow. As might 
be supposed, it is extremely difficult 
to obtain an original copy of one of 
these documents, but one has been ob- 
tained; and a fac-simile of what is 
probably the onl)^ contract in the 
hands of "American devils," as the 
Chinese highbinder delights to call us, 
is shown in the accompanying cut. 
The black spot upon the left side is the 
seal of the slave-girl, made by pressing 
her inked finger upon the paper. The 
contract is given in the original Chi- 
nese ; the translation would be a blot 
upon these pages. "^ 

Here is a story a little more in detail, 
told by a refined Chinese girl, which 
also shows how they are taught by 
their masters to perjure themselves so 
that they may land in defiance of all 
law. "I am sixteen jears old; was 
born in Canton. My father died when 
I was two years old, and left my 
mother and me and a little brother 
with no one to support us. My mother 
worked hard as a seamstress, and I 
helped her when I got older. When I 
was fifteen years of age arrangements 
were made for my marriage, and I 
was betrothed to a man in Hong Kong. 
I did not see him, as according to 
Chinese custom we do not see each 
other. This was on the tenth day of 
the tenth Chinese month of last year. 
On the first day of the eleventh month 
he came up to Canton again with a 
woman. He sent the woman to see 
me and to tell me to get ready to go 
down to Hong Kong with him. I 
told him that I must wait till my 
mother came home before deciding. 
She urged me to go at once, as my 
husband was waiting. I went reluc- 
tantly, but I thought she spoke true. 
We went down on the steamship 

* A careful translation of this slave contract has 
been made by the Rev. F. J. Masters, of the Methodist 
Chinese Mission of San Francisco; and copies will 
be provided to clergymen, U. S. Senators, Members 
of Congress, and those engaged in actual philan- 
thropic work, by addressing The Californian. 

Hankow. She took me to a house, 
where we had a room together; but I 
saw nothing of the man who was to be 
my husband. After six days the 
woman left me in charge of a man, 
who said I had not got to my husband 
yet, and that I should have to go on a 
steamer a few days' journey before I 
saw him. I did not know who the 
man was. They said I was going to 
California. We went on board the 
steamship Belgic, When we got to 
Japan I found we did not get off the 
steamer, but went on; then I cried fo 
go back to nay mother. I cried all the 
way over. 

' ' There was a man on board who 
all the time was teaching me what to 
say. He coaxed me to be quiet, and 
told me I would have a rich husband 
and a fine time in California. 

' ' He said I was to say I had been 
to California before, and had left a 
year ago. He said I was to tell 
them my husband was a ladies' boot- 
maker living on Jackson Street near 
Dupont, and told me if I made any 
mistake in my words, and made any 
fuss, there would be a foreign devil 
come and take me away to the devil 
prison, and I should never see my hus- 

' ' On the third day of the twelfth 
month I arrived in San Francisco; 
but it was not before the sixth of that 
month that I came ashore. On that 
day a white man came to where I 
was and called out my name and gave 
me a white paper, and I went on 
shore and they measured me. Then 
I got into a hack with one white man 
and one Chinaman, and they took me 
to a house near the court. I was 
there for several days. I answered 
all the questions satisfactorily. I 
swore that my husband lived here, and 
that I had come to join him. I went 
again in two or three days till it was 
all over, and they let me go. 

"I went back to a family house; 
and the next day a slaveholder came 
to see me, and asked me if I would like 
to go with her and be willing to go to 
a house of ill-repute. I indignantly 

fljt 1^ -V ^K A^ ™ ^ 
^^ ;fia fl x5? Ip y^ :^ JL 

j>i a. ^ /i ;^ 5T ^ ^ 

J^ i^ ^ -fe -^-j2_ ^ m 

Fac-simile of Original Slave Contract in Possession of "The Californian." 



refused, and .said I was going to 
be married in a few days. Then 
I got suspicious and began to cry; 
but they told me not to fear, that I 
was going to a nice place, and would 
have plenty of food and fine clothes 
and jewelry, and go to the theater 
and have a nice time. I cried very 
much, but it was of no use. The 
man who brought me over said I 
must go, and so the money was paid 
and I was bought. One thousand five 
hundred and thirty dollars were paid 
forme. I saw the money paid, and I 
was taken on the twenty-sixth of last 
month of last year and placed in her 
den. They forced me to do their bid- 
ding, but I cried and resisted. I did 
not want to lead this life. They 
starved me for days, tying me where 
food was almost in reach of me, which 
looked so good. Then they beat me 
time after time, and threatened to kill 
me if I did not behave right. I heard 
of the Mission, and I waited my oppor- 
tunity to run, and so I escaped." 

Artists have pictured the slave marts 
of Turkey, Vv^here women are being 
exhibited before the rich possessors of 
harems, and might find a similar, 
though more horrible and realistic 
field, in San Francisco. Among the 
discoveries made by the missionaries 
was the fact that there existed a reg- 
ular slave mart. This is on Dupont 
Street, and is or was known as the 
Queen's Room. Here the slaves are 
brought from the ships as they arrive 
and are exposed for examination to the 
various buyers, who rate them accord- 
ing to their various standards of phys- 
ical beauty. In a number of instances 
where these sales are consummated 
the victims are treated in a manner 
too horrible for publication, but which 
is supposed to render them more valu- 
able for the purpose for which they 
have been purchased. A number of 
such maltreated women were exhibited 
to a member of the New York Society 
for the Suppression of Crime within a 
few weeks in San Francisco China- 
town. This gentleman was visiting 
the locality with certain officials, in- 

cognito; and the women were exhibited 
and the healed wounds pointed out as 
a curiosity, suggestive of the cunning 
of the Chinese slavedealer in resorting 
to a device only employed in the case 
of the lower animals, to add to their 
market value. This chamber of hor- 
rors is in all probability still open to 
the possessor of two bits and a ' ' guide' ' 
familiar with the worst side of China- 

If any one think these slavedealers 
give up their prey without a desperate 
struggle they are mistaken, as these 
two incidents show. Ah Yung, a 
woman twenty-two years old, was 
found by Rev. N. R. Johnston wan- 
dering about in Beulah Park, Oak- 
land, and moaning as if in great 
trouble. She was brought to the Mis- 
sion, and said : " I was born at Sun 
Ning ; have been in this country two 
years. Yue Ka Sheng bought me in 
Hong Kong for $185 for immoral pur- 
poses. I had no certificate. I was 
brought ashore on a writ of habeas 
corpus. The wife of Yue Ka Sheng 
took me away from here a long dis- 
tance, where I was sold for six hundred 
dollars. They beat me and threatened 
to kill me when I was unwilling to go 
with them. While I was in the place 
I was married to Woo Yuen Chee, 
who paid back the money to my mas- 
ter. My husband went back to China 
the fifteenth day of the sixth month of 
this year. After he was gone his 
brothers wanted to sell me. They 
beat me and employed highbinders to 
take me, and gave them six hundred 
dollars to kill me. I was shot at over 
Wong Ting Hing's shop on Commer- 
cial Street, but not hurt. They then 
employed a man to shoot me, but he 
took pity and sent me to Oakland, and 
with the money paid him went back 
to China. I have had two children ; 
the first died and the second was sold 
by my husband's brothers when it was 
fifteen months old. I left the child 
in a room, and when I came back it 
was gone." 

Rev. F. J. Masters relates this story 
of a little widow: On the 24th of 



February, 1890, word was sent to the 
Methodist Mission that a young Chi- 
nese widow, called Chun Kook, was 
about to be sold into a slavery worse 
than death. Her husband, to whom 
she had been married but a few 
months, died very suddenly, and imme- 
diately after his funeral the widow, 
who is a very pretty little woman, was 
taken possession of by her husband's 
clan. Two big Chinamen, said to be 
highbinders, were guarding her. The 
ladies of the Mission and the superin- 
tendent undertook to rescue her. We 
were met by the strongest opposition 
on the part of the men. They grap- 
pled with us, and a hand-to-hand 
wrestle took place, in which the Chi- 
nese became convinced of the superior- 
ity of Anglo-Saxon muscle. The 
woman was rescued and safely housed 
in the Mission with the household ef- 
fects which belonged to her. Two 
more amazed and disgusted looking 
men could not be found than these 
Chinamen appeared when balked of 
their prey." 

The famous writ of habeas corpus 
causes endless trouble to these libera- 
tors of Chinese slaves ; and often j ustice 
is defeated and these child-women are 
in the name of American law handed 
over to be slaves in the various dens 
of Chinatown. The well-known case 
of little Woon T'Sin, in whose behalf 
Miss Culbertson had to go to court 
more than a score of times, and for 
whose return to the dens the slave- 
owners made such a determined fight, 
is but one of many. The case attracted 
the attention of the press not only of 
California but of the United States. 
Many examples are on record where 
the highbinders have assaulted with 
personal violence the grand men and 
women connected with the Methodist 
and Presbyterian Missions, and tried 
by forcible means to regain possession 
of their prey. One of the most noted 
of these cases was that of Rev. Thomas 
Filben, then pastor of a Methodist 
church in Sacramento, now officiating 
as the minister of Bush Street Metho- 
dist Church, vSan Francisco. 

Mr. Filben rescued the girl from a 
den in Sacramento, and started to bring 
her to San Francisco to the Methodist 
Mission. The owner of the woman 
was Chin Ah Fee, the highbinder and 
dealer in human chattels. It appears 
that, after Mr. Filben left with the 
woman on the local train for the Bay, 
the highbinders, who were defeated 
in their attempts to regain possession 
of the slave, assisted b)^ some white 
men belonging to the ring, whom it 
would be interesting to know, tele- 
graphed Constable Kincaid at Davis- 
ville to arrest the woman by all means 
and hold her. When the train reached 
Davisville a lot of savage-looking 
highbinders, in the center of which 
was the constable, made an attempt to 
take the woman; but the plucky minis- 
ter held his ground and the woman was 

Constable Kincaid, when he saw 
that his scheme would not work, tele- 
graphed the constable at Elmira to 
board the train and arrest the woman. 
When the train reached Elmira, Mr. 
Filben was confronted by the constable, 
who demanded the woman. 

' ' You cannot have her. Show me 
your warrant, ' ' said the brave clerg>'- 

The constable insisted that he 
should have the woman. He exhib- 
ited the telegram from Constable Kin- 
caid that he should arrest her. 

Mr. Filben would not yield, and gave 
the constable to understand that if he 
laid his hand on the woman there 
would be trouble. 

At this juncture a number of the 
passengers were attracted by the con- 
versation, and sided with Mr. Filben. 

The constable saw he was getting 
into hot water, and left the train. 

Mr. Filben, observing the unlawful 
and desperate attempts the highbind- 
ers were making to recover the slave, 
guarded her so much the more closely. 
He knew that in vSan Francisco the 
agents of the ring, assisted by white 
men, would be ordered by telegram to 
lie in wait for the woman as she stepped 
out of the ferry-house, and then if 



necessary blood would be shed to re- 
gain the lost slave. Knowing this, 
Mr. Filben balked them by engaging 
a coupe, which was driven inside the 
ferry-gates. Outside was a gang of 
highbinders waiting to pounce upon 
the woman. As soon as the steamer 
landed, Mr. Filben and his charge en- 
tered the coupe and were driven out 
of another gate into the city, where 
they proceeded to the Methodist Chi- 
nese Mission. 

In the struggle that ensued the 
woman's clothes were torn in many 
places; and she even lost her shoes in 
the effort to regain her freedom. The 
slaveowners hate Mr. Filben, and 
are seeking revenge. They consider 
him a " white devil," and desire to see 
him punished for freeing slaves. 

Once of twice, too, the highbinders 
have attempted to regain the slaves 
by an attack for a certain one in the 
ranks of Chinese girls who, under the 
care of Miss Margaret Culbertson of 
the Presbyterian Mission, every Sun- 
day wend their way to the Presby- 
terian Chinese Church. But a quick 
call with a police whistle has brought 
speedy assistance from the police, 
whose star means that the whole gov- 
ernment of the United States will pro- 
tect the smallest and most helpless 
child, black or white or yellow, from 

Several times the life of Miss Cul- 
bertson has been in danger, and threat- 
ening and warning letters from foes 
and friends have been received, show- 
ing that her appearance on the street 
meant death. But the brave woman, 
with a serene faith that she is in the 
hands of a guiding power and cannot 
be taken till her work is done and He 
wills it, calmly goes on with the work. 
Threats have often been made of as- 
saults on the Mission, but when the 
Mongolians realize that these girls are 
devotedly attached to Miss Culbertson, 
and would fight tooth and nail for her, 
their plan of assault melts into thin 
air, and the Mission still stands. 

One of the disagreeable features of 
these cases is that skillful American 

lawyers are often employed by the 
Chinese, causing delays innumerable, 
and, if common report be true, joining 
their societies for the benefits to be 
derived. An instance may be cited to 
illustrate how the law seems to stand 
in the way of justice. The girl was a 
mere child, named Woon T'Sun, in 
whose interests Miss Culbertson had 
to go to court more than twenty times, 
illustrating the unrelenting disposition 
of the dealers. 

About five years ago the wife and 
four of the children of a Chinaman 
died, leaving him a daughter about 
six years of age. The man had bor- 
rowed money from Kum Mah, a Chi- 
nese woman, who had long been a 
procuress and proprietor of various 
dens in Bartlett Alley and other parts 
of Chinatown. He could not pay his 
debt, and wanted to go back to China ; 
and so, to settle accounts and get a 
little needed money, he sold his little 
girl, body and soul, to Kum Mah, and 
sailed for the Flowery Kingdom. 

Miss Emma Cable was then the 
house-to-house missionary in China- 
town of the Occidental Board. Like 
Miss Ida Hull of the Methodist Mis- 
sion, she went regularly to houses and 
dens of vice, where she would be ad- 
mitted ; for these secluded Mongolian 
women dearly love these gentle white 
sisters, — teaching, bettering, helping 
and raising Chinese women and chil- 
dren wherever their kind ministrations 
will be received. At Kum Mah's 
place, in Bartlett Alley, she found 
little Woon T'Sun, and for some time 
taught her with others. Later the 
little girl suddenly disappeared, and 
every effort to trace her was fruitless. 
Late last fall Miss Culbertson found 
she was with Kum Mah, her owner, 
on Dupont Street, and went on errands 
every day to one of Kum Mah's dens 
upstairs in the "City of Peking." a 
new brick building on Waverly Place, 
where Kum Mah had moved when Bart- 
lett Alley was closed and the dens 
"suppressed." Detective Cox was 
notified, and on November i6, 1890, he 
arrested the girl as she was coming 


^~' 'CSS^ 


"The Christian Stairway " Rescued Slaves of the Presbyterian Mission. 



out of this place, and took her to 
the Presbyterian Home. The girl was 
a minor inhabiting houses of ill-repute, 
and was being raised to become a regu- 
lar inmate as soon as her age would 
permit. Miss Culbertson was soon 
appointed her guardian, and the bright, 
little girl at once entered the pure life 
and training of the Home. 

As is always the case, a struggle for 
the recover>' of the valuable piece of 
property began. Kum Mah, aided and 
advised by ' ' Little Pete' ' and some of 
the most villainous highbinders in 
Chinatown, secured the professional 
services of an American attorney, and 
made application to have May Sing 
substituted for Miss Culbertson as the 
girl's guardian. May Sing is a 3-oung 
Chinese woman who was raised bj- 
Kum Mah for a life of vice, and who 
now conducts a house of ill-repute for 

All little girls bought for illegal 
purposes in Chinatown are made to 
work and act as ser^^ants unil old 
enough to be inmates of the dens; 
and this was Woon T' Sun's course 
of life. As she is now worth fully 
one thousand dollars in the market, 
and would be worth double that sum 
in five years, it is not surprising that 
a desperate fight is made to recover 
her by the woman who bought her, 
by murderous highbinders and others 

The case was kept on the docket 
for many weeks, and attracted the at- 
tention of the entire press of the State. 
The ladies of the Occidental Board 
appeared in large numbers in court, 
and one of their members said: "It 
has been the custom of lawyers who 
take up these cases to make the af- 
fair so unpleasant that no lady would 
care to appear in court. This plan 
will not work now; we are determined 
to see this matter through and find 
out whether these little girls can be 
protected b}^ the courts of California. 
To drive the ladies out of the court- 
room, an American lawyer asked Miss 
Culbertson indecent and insulting 
questions, — insinuating that they were 

not fit to have the care of a child, and 
that they sold children back to slavery 
for money, and took bribes for letting 
them go, and other absurd charges. 
In Victoria there is a Home like ours, 
and public sentiment against this slav- 
ery is so strong that no la\^'>'er, no 
matter what his standing, will under- 
take to recover a girl. ' ' 

As to the fact of Chinese slavery 
which the testimony in the case of 
Woon T'Sun and hundreds of other 
girls proved, this little paragraph 
from the decision of Judge Reardon 
in a similar case, where an old hag 
claimed to be the mother of a rescued 
girl, adds significant testimonj-: "In 
these Chinese cases of maternity 
claimed, there always lurks a sus- 
picion that the claim is made because, 
according to Mongolian methods, the 
child is valuable property. Yet a few 
years and this infant will, as prices in 
the slave market rule, be worth from 
fifteen hundred to two thousand dol- 
lars; and it might well be that the grief, 
real or simulated, of the mother has a 
money basis. ' Hinc illce lacrymcg.' ' ' 

All lovers of justice will be glad to 
know that, in spite of all the machina- 
tions of the highbinders and their 
American allies in the guise of lawyers, 
little Woon T'Sun was given to Miss 
Culbertson' s care, and is to-daj-one of 
the happiest girls in the Presbyterian 

To the honor of the San Francisco 
press be it said, their defense of these 
helpless girls and their motherly res- 
cuers was most manlj'. Their expose 
of slavery' was fearless. The Exayni- 
ner said editorially : " It is time for 
people with the instincts of humanity 
to pay some attention to the proceed- 
ings in the courts with reference to the 
wretched Chinese women bought and 
sold by their masters, who speculate in 
their degradation. The Mission Home, 
presided over by Miss M. Culbertson, 
has done a noble and arduous work in 
rescuing these poor women from the 
hells in which they have been impris- 
oned. This work has been carried on 
literalh' at the point of the revolver 



against the unremitting opposition of 

the murderous highbinders, who have 
been outlawed in their own country 
and make assassination and every 
species of crime their profession in 
this. The odds are fearful, but one 
would think in such a contest as this 
the Mission could at least rely on the 
support of the laws of its own country. 

' ' The first resort of the highbinders, 
when a victim escapes to the protec- 
tion of the Mission, is to the American 
courts. They can always find lawyers 
who, for a fee, are willing to aid them. 

' ' The highbinder is not content with 
making a straightforward fight. He 
attempts to drive from the witness 
stand the modest Christian women, 
whose lives are devoted to the work of 
helping these unfortunate Chinese 
girls, his plan being to ask them 
wholly unnecessar>^ irrelevant and in- 
delicate questions in the coarse lan- 
guage of the slums. He takes a 
positive delight in his unclean work, 
and announces his intention of keeping 
up his infamous war on the Mission 
until his work is accomplished. 

" 77^1? thing -must stop. The laws of 
California are adequate to protect a 
band of good women unselfishly work- 
ing in the cause of humanity and de- 
cency; and the public only needs to 
know what is going on to make its 
voice heard in a way that will be 

All this was foreseen years and years 
ago by the Chinese merchants, and at 
the first legislature in the State they 
sent a petition to the lawmakers to 
keep out Chinese women of immoral 
character. At that time there were 
only a few such in the country, but 
they were beginning to send to China 

for ship-loads of slaves for brothels. 
Then these ' ' heathen ' ' merchants ap- 
pealed to their "civilized" American 
brothers begging them to stop the 
traffic in its incipiency. But the 
bill was tabled, and the result is, as 
might have been expected, the traffic 
has grown to immense proportions. 
That the traffic exists is well known. 
Bvidences of the horrible treatment of 
the victims have been published for 
years; yet no case has ever been 
brought into court, no buyer or seller 
sought to be punished; and the traffic 
and the slavery go on as steadily, ob- 
viously and certainly, as in New Or- 
leans before the war. 

Who cares ? What are we going to 
do about it ? These noble Methodists 
and Presbyterians will rescue a few in 
their Missions. Like Mr. Charles N. 
Crittenton, the noble philanthropist of 
New York, who has spent thousands 
upon thousands of dollars in founding 
Florence Missions in New York, New- 
ark, Sacramento and San Jose, for the 
rescue of erring white sisters, these 
grand Christian people are doing the 
same for the dark-eyed, dark-skinned 
sisters of Asiatic birth. But with all 
their rescue work thousands of these 
poor girls cannot be reached. Active 
co-operation and hearty assistance 
should be given by all who have one 
drop of Christian blood within their 
veins. These girls revolt at their hor- 
rible lives. But what choice have 
slaves ? Let America blot out yellow 
slaverj^ as it has blotted out black 
slaver5^ Let the Chinese woman as 
well as the African man point to 
the stars and stripes and say, No 
man dares do me injustice under this 


By Thomas Clavering Travers. 

scientist who visited California 
recently said to a resident of San 
Francisco, ' ' I admire your fine city 
and the remarkable industrial devel- 
opment going on throughout the 
State ; but what has interested me 
most is a study of the descendants of 
the men you call pioneers. According 
to theory they should be an excep- 
tional race of men ; and my observa- 
tions lead me to believe that this is 
so to a marked degree." 

The true advancement of a State or 
country depends, to a great extent, 
upon the people, — the men and women 
who constitute the workers in all the 
fields of labor and professional life. 
New England was settled by hardy 
Englishmen,— the pick of the race,— 
men who would not be kept down, 
and who declared that, if they could 
not have what they believed were 
their rights, civil and religious, in the 
land of their birth, they would search 
for shores where they could enjoy 
them. They were, in the main, men 
of high feeling and strong intellectual 
powers; and to enable them to carry 
out the dictates of conscience they 
possessed those attributes of the high- 
est manhood,— courage and physical 

Filled with enthusiasm, and know- 
ing well the hardships and dangers 
which were before them, they braved 
the Atlantic in ships which would be 
considered unsafe as coasters to-day. 
Poorly equipped to meet savage races, 
and, in many instances, ill supplied 
with provisions, they sailed away on the 
voyage that immortalized them as the 
Pilgrim Fathers. For years these 
men braved a thousand dangers. They 
were the pioneers in a strange land 
filled with savage tribes who, in many 
cases, looked upon them as invaders, 
to be killed off at the first opportunity. 

Only the highest type of manhood 
could prevail under such conditions; 
and that it existed is shown by the 
New England men of to-day. Wher- 
ever high civilization exists in Amer- 
ica, wherever men strong in intellect, 
foremost in business and professional 
life, are seen, it will be found that the 
elements of strength and greatness 
which have resulted in success can be 
readily traced back from generation to 
generation to the sturdy stock that, 
single-handed, under the banner of 
equality and justice to all, conquered 
the New World. 

The generations of to-day in New 
England, and, to a great measure, 
throughout the United States, owe 
everything to this infusion of fore- 
father blood that brought courage and 
physical perfection with it. It crops 
out in every city in the land ; the men 
of mark in nearly every branch of life 
boast of it, and proudly refer to their 
ancestr>'; and it is one of the dearest 
heritages of the American of the nine- 
teenth century to be able to say, ' ' My 
ancestor came over in the Mayflower :^ ' 
This ancestor may have been a plain 
cobbler or a clerk; but the modern de- 
scendant knows that he must have 
been a man in all the term implies to 
have made the fight under such con- 

What the people of New England 
are to the forefathers of American his- 
tory the rising generation of to-day on 
the Pacific Slope is to the pioneers; and 
that they are in a full measure doing 
credit to their ancestry goes without 
saying. It is a most interesting ques- 
tion, a subject which will grow in in- 
terest as time goes on; and not only 
will the historian and the ethnologist, 
but the people at large, watch with in- 
terest the work accomplished by the 
sons and daughters of the men and 
women who first climbed the Sierras 




and looked down upon the fertile val- 
leys of the Golden State. While the 
forefathers were the gradual conquer- 
ors of a continent, the pioneers, under- 
going in many cases even greater 
hardships, were the conquerors of the 
Pacific Slope. They were men of steel, 
from whom great deeds are to be ex- 
pected, and from their descendants in 
generations to come. The two bodies of 
men present many similar characteris- 
tics. The forefathers were actuated by a 
desire for religious liberty, personal ad- 
vancement and absolute freedom. The 
pioneers were men who needed more 
room, men of adventurous and manly 
spirit, men who desired to benefit 
themselves and the nation by investi- 
gating its wonders and resources; and 
to accomplish these results they under- 
went in many instances privations and 
dangers that pen cannot describe. 
They started overland to conquer 
unknown lands; single-handed, they 
marched into the domain of savage 
tribes, prepared to meet them ten, 
yes, a thousand, to one. They en- 
compassed unheard-of difficulties, 
overcame all obstacles, and carried 
the banner of progress and high 
civilization from the Atlantic to the 
Pacific, completing the work it 
might be said the forefathers began 
at Plymouth Rock. The original de- 
velopment of California was begun by 
these men. How is it being carried on 
by their sons ? An answer to this lies 
in the present prosperity of the State. 
The pioneers have in many instances 
laid down the burden which has been 
taken up by their sons. Volumes 
could be written on the attainments of 
the rising generation, in every profes- 
sion, in the arts and sciences. In the 
city of San Francisco this is particu- 
larly noticeable; and the rule is that 
the sons of the founders of this western 
empire are well sustaining the reputa- 
tions for energy and pluck established 
by their sires. 

An interesting feature of the lives of 
these sons of pioneers is the fact that 
many have attained unusual promi- 
nence early in life; and it is to this class 

that especial reference will be made. 
One of the greatest corporations of the 
world has for its second in command 
the son of a pioneer who is hardly 
forty, yet whose strong hand as a 
power in the line indicated is felt, — 
not only throughout this country, 
but wherever the channels of mod- 
ern business and enterprise flow. I 
refer to Col. C. F. Crocker, the vice- 
president of the Southern Pacific 
Company, one of the most powerful 
institutions of its kind in the world. 
The history of the elder Crocker is too 
well known to dwell upon. In brief, 
it may be said that he was a type of 
nation builders; and when the history 
of the heroes of the American nation 
comes to be written he will occupy 
a leading position as one of the powers 
that forged the steel chain that now 
connects the Atlantic and Pacific. The 
man was a latent power that but 
required just the conditions which 
existed from 1849 on, to develop; and 
his monument stands on almost every 
acre in California, while his epitaph is 
written in the commercial prosperity 
of the day. From such stock our Eng- 
lish scientist might well expect great 
things, and that the son is worthy of 
the father is well known. Col. Charles 
F. Crocker is probably the youngest 
man holding so important a position in 
America in connection with any rail- 
road system, and shares the great 
responsibility with C P. Huntington, 
one of the originators of the great sys- 
tem, and the builder of the Central 
Pacific. Col. Crocker was born in 
Sacramento in 1854; hence he is but 
thirty-seven years of age. Reared in 
the lap of luxury, without any especial 
incentive for work, intellectual or phy- 
sical, he has by virtue of his attain- 
ments stepped at once into one of the 
most important and responsible posi- 
tions in railroad circles in this country 
or the world. 

Many sons with such a life before 
them would have held back and pre- 
ferred a life of ease to the responsibili- 
ties which already loomed up on the 
horizon; not so with the subject of this 

Vice-President Southern Pacific Company. 



sketch. From his youth he began the 
schooling and preparation that fitted 
him so pre-eminently for the position 
he fills. To have an intelligent grasp 
upon the situation was to be especially 
fitted for it; and the vice-president of 
the company is master of not only his 
own department but that of all in the 
upward ladder, having worked his 
way up in a manner peculiarly Amer- 
ican and peculiarly result produc- 
ing. One of the first positions he 
held was that of clerk in the office of 
the Oakland Division Superintendent, 
where he stood on equal terms with 
other clerks, and won his way upward 
entirely on merit. From the humble 
clerkship he passed to the general 
freight office in San Francisco, and so 
on until he was the claim adjuster of the 
company, and had a grasp upon the 
internal workings of the vast machin- 
ery of the company that few possessed. 
Appreciation of his knowledge of 
affairs came now in his election as 
third vice-president; and in 1888 he 
was elected second vice-president of 
this vast corporation. In the absence 
of its president he is the virtual head 
and front of the company, — competent 
to bear its great responsibilities, and 
with a future before him without ap- 
parent limitation. 

In mercantile life we find another 
member of this family, the junior mem- 
ber of the publishing house of the 
H. S. Crocker Co., one of the promi- 
nent figures in the commercial world 
of this State, who has inherited all the 
vigor and mental strength that charac- 
terizes the head of the house. 

From the field of the railroad it is 
but a step to that of the banker and 
financier; and following out the idea 
of selecting men, the sons of pioneers 
who have attained great prominence 
in their several lines early in life, we 
may take as a type Richard H. Mc- 
Donald, Jr., vice-president of the Pa- 
cific Bank of San Francisco. To tell 
the story of such men as Charles 
Crocker, R. H. McDonald, Mark Hop- 
kins and others is to relate the story 
of the pioneer days so often told. They 

and their comrades are well known as 
the builders of the present common- 
wealth, — the men who laid the foun- 
dation upon which the State has grown 
to its present proportions. The history 
of the elder McDonald reads like a 

Few families in America have so in- 
teresting an ancestry as the McDonalds, 
the family having been traced back 
by John O'Hart, the well-known gene- 
alogist of Dublin, many centuries to 
Marcus the son of Aengus Oge, the 
Scotch lord of the Isles, who married 
a daughter of Olahan, I^ord of Derry, 
Ireland, whose clan was one of the 
most powerful and illustrious in the 
history of the British Isles. 

If an ancient name and all the 
concomitants of a strong personality 
through generations count for any- 
thing, the progeny of this man should 
be in immediate touch with the pres- 
ent growth and development of the 
country. This inference is borne out 
by fact, Richard H. McDonald, Jr., 
being — while about the age of Col. 
Crocker (not yet forty)— the vice-presi- 
dent and active spirit of one of the 
most influential banks on the Pacific 
Coast, an institution which in the 
magnitude of its interests takes rank 
with the great banks of the country. 
So young a man is rarely found in 
such a position; and, as in the instance 
of Col. Crocker, it is not home influ- 
ence or because he was the son of his 
father that gave him the position, but 
rather that he was in every sense of the 
word his father's son, — inheriting all 
those sterling qualities that have made 
the elder man an honored and striking 
figure in this State. The every-day 
history of such men as these is not 
merely of interest because personali- 
ties happen to be the fashion; but the 
facts are valuable to the rising gener- 
ation, to the young who are to be the 
men and rulers of to-morrow. 

Brought up with every luxury, with- 
out the incentive of necessity to earn 
a living, the young man early in life 
showed evidence of the mental attain- 
ments that later were to be brought 

Vice-President Pacific Bank. 



into play in the management of large 
things. As a youth he showed strong 
intuition, a desire for knowledge and 
wisdom beyond his years. To this 
was added strong convictions as to 
what was just and right, making a 
most promising combination in a youth 
of but a decade. In 1861 the young 
man was taken East, where his ed- 
ucation began during the stormy 
times of the New York riots. Appre- 
ciating the value of an education, and 
determined to prepare his son for the 
highest positions he might be called 
upon to fill, the father sent the young 
man to Germany, where in 1878 he 
was a matriculated student at the 
famous University of Jena, which has 
turned out so many illustrious men, and 
where the famous Haeckel held a 
chair. Continuous residence in France 
and general European travel filled up 
the vacation time, and gave the young 
student an opportunity to indulge in 
the study of government and diplomat- 
ic usage, in which he was particularly 
interested. He contrasted the differ- 
ent forms of government, the condi- 
tions of the people, with those of 
America ; and his notes and letters on 
these and other questijons show a re- 
markable understanding of political 
usage and a grasp of great questions 
phenomenal in one so young. 

The European experience was but a 
beginning of his education, — a broad- 
ening introduction, as it were; and 
from here he entered business life for 
a year, traveled extensively through- 
out his own country, finally entering 
Yale College, from which he graduated 
with honor as Bachelor of Arts in 
1 88 1. Afcer a vacation in Europe he 
returned, entering the Senior Class of 
Harvard, graduating with renewed 
honors and a degree in 1882. Mr. 
McDonald now entered the Pacific 
Bank, founded by ex-Governor Bur- 
nett, and then under the presidency of 
his father. He began at the foot of 
the ladder in a subordinate position, 
spending his days at the institution in 
practical incursions into banking, while 
his nights were employed in studying 

the theory and practice of modern 

So much application did not pass 
without its reward. The young man 
rose step by step, leaving his mark in 
every department of the institution, 
until he was finally elected vice-pres- 
ident, the second position in the insti- 
tution; and the growth and develop- 
ment of the bank during his connection 
shows the wisdom of the choice. 

Mr. McDonald has risen to a posi- 
tion that few attain until their hair 
is well silvered ; yet he is not forty, 
and instead of resting on his oars the 
work goes on. There is probably not a 
harder or more conscientious worker 
in the State. Night and day his ener- 
gies are devoted to his duty. He is 
the man at the wheel, and every turn 
must have a definite meaning upon 
the course of the financial ship ; a 
man of afiairs, in touch with vast in- 
terests, with the executive ability to 
guide them aright; a remarkable judge 
of men, with an inherent power to com- 
mand; a man with a future in any di- 
rection he might turn, — such is a type 
of a financier, the son of a pioneer. 
This is the brief story of a man's life 
from acquaintances on 'Change. Said a 
banker: ' ' Mr. McDonald is to our busi- 
ness what General Howard is to the 
army. Everybody knows the latter is 
a famous fighter; but he is a philan- 
thropist with strong religious pred- 
ilections. So with the San Francisco 
banker: he is a general in finance; but 
in his hours of ease his mind turns to 
philanthropic pursuits. Having en- 
joyed all the benefits of liberal educa- 
tion, he early became interested in the 
work of aiding young men in their 
fight single-handed with the world; 
and to this end he has long labored, 
in many directions only known to 
those who have been lifted higher by 
him. Such is the man and banker,— 
generous to a fault, possessed of in- 
domitable energy and determination; 
building up, that he may aid all hu- 
manity, and living to make life better, 
easier and brighter to fellow-travelers 
less fortunate. Mr. McDonald has large 



interests throughout the State, has done 
much in the great developmental ex- 
periments of the day. Offices of public 
trust have been tendered him from 
time to time; and while importuned to 
enter public life, and his advice often 
sought on important public questions, 
he continues in the field of his choice. 
What Mr. McDonald's motto in life is, 
may not be known; but the following 
words from the lips of his father, found 
in his biography and originally in- 
cluded in a letter to his sons, might 
well have served as his inspiration: 
" I have tried as best I knew how to 
lead by example and precept an in- 
dustrious, honest and Christian life, 
without ever injuring willfully, in 
thought or deed, a single fellow-man. 
In all my eventful career I have fixed 
my trust on high; and I begin to feel 
that I have fought a good fight. I 
have finished my course; I have kept 
my faith. ' ' Noble words, worthy of 
being transcribed on the memory of 
every young man. 

We have glanced at sons of pioneers 
in the several fields; and it would be of 
interest, did space permit in the pres- 
ent paper, to follow them through the 
various professions, selecting some in- 
dividual especially prominent as an 

The family of Henry Mayo New- 
hall would present interesting exam- 
ples. Here was a vigorous pioneer 
whose ancestors were among the first 
to press American soil in search of per- 
fect freedom and religious liberty. The 
Newhall family is one of the most dis- 
tinguished in Essex County, New 
England, of to-day, and exercises a 
powerful influence in affairs of State. 
The Newhalls were among the found- 
ers of lyynn, Massachusetts. H. M. 
Newhall, the founder of the California 
branch of the family, well represented 
the sturdy pluck that characterized 
his ancestors, and in coming to Cali- 
fornia in the early days passed through 
many experiences similar to those of 
his forefathers when they landed on 
the bleak shores of New England in 
the sixteenth century. 

Mr. Newhall early became an impor- 
tant figure in California's advance- 
ment. A broad-minded man of high 
culture, he started many measures that 
will long be monuments to his mem- 
ory. He was a typical example of the 
Californian landowner. Having faith 
in the soil he became the owner of the 
fine ranches Piejo and San Miguelito 
in Monterey County, of the Suey 
Ranch in San Luis Obispo and Santa 
Barbara counties, and of the famous 
San Francisco Ranch in I^os Angeles 
and Ventura counties, not to mention 
other tracts of farming and stock land 
in various parts of the State, On the 
latter are the towns of Newhall and 
Saugus. The sons of this pioneer 
well represent the father, having in- 
herited all the qualities that made him 
the man of mark he was. 

In their various professions they 
have become prominent figures; and 
the vast ranch interests are conducted 
by men who have not only had the 
benefit of their father's experience in 
California farming, but of the highest 
education and the experience and 
broadening results of European travel. 
It would be an interesting experience 
to many a European farmer of to-day 
to meet the present owner of this Cal- 
ifornian farm upon the ground. He 
would find that ranching or farming 
in California did not necessarily con- 
fine a man's thoughts to a limited area, 
but that here was a farm conducted by 
a farmer of a new type, — a man of 
high culture : a scholar who could 
direct his ranch in all its detail, and 
yet be a man of the highest culture 
and refinement, suggestive of the 
truism that agricultural pursuits, at 
least with the environment that Cali- 
fornia affords, ennoble instead of hav- 
ing an opposite effect that is by some 
writers claimed. 

In the future, when the history and 
lives of the sons and grandsons of the 
Californian pioneers are written, it will 
be found that the race is a superior 
one, inheriting all the characteristics 
which have suggested the present 


By EsteIvLE Thomson. 

A CHILD once opened eyes that smiled 
Strange things; for always, heard by him, 
Were soft, wild sounds none others knew. 
Winds stirring down the forests dim 
Moved leaves to speech, to his fine ear ; 

The trees' sap sang; and blades of grass 
His whispered questions answered back ; 

While flowers found tongues where he would pass. 

Where others won wide human love, 

This youth was shy. Misunderstood, 
He moved among his kin, aloof. 

Thej' said : ' ' He sees no other good 
Than hills and fields and woods can bound." 

And he, hurt to the heart, knew not 
To heal the breach, and silently 

Clung firmer to his native spot. 

Clung firmer, as the swift years rolled; 

Drew close and closer to his own. 
Iveamed every mood of changing wind. 

Each streamlet note, each forest tone. 
The insects taught to him their call. 

The birds their cry ; and sweet 
Rang in his ear the stories told 

By summer's showers and winter's sleet. 

But once there came a day when still. 

With folded hands across his breast, 
This shy, grave man. Nature's true friend. 

Lay hushed into eternal rest. 
And one by one, with silent tread. 

Neighbors and kindred turned to pay 
Their last respect to him who long 

In calm reserve had passed their way. 

'Twas then, wathin his fingers' clasp. 

They found a packet closely tied; 
Its contents touched their hearts who read, 

In that gray dawning when he died. 
For here, his great true soul laid bare. 

Was need of human pity shown; 
And those who listened spoke through tears, — 
" We might have loved him had we known." 



A Lady's Journal. 

(Commenced in January number.) 

[The history of the late war has been well described in various publications, but that portion 
relating to the famous Dry Tortugas prison, where thousands of men were kept during the war, 
and where those connected with the assassination of President Lincoln were confined, has never 
been described, yet the events are now of great historical value. The island upon which the great 
prison was established was a sand bank comprising but thirteen acres,— one of the last of the keys 
representing the end of the great Florida reef. For seven or eight years a lady, the wife of one of 
the surgeons, lived in this isolated spot and viewed all the incidents from the appearance of the 
first war cloud until the declaration of peace. The following chapters were not written or intended 
for publication, the events being jotted down simply for friends in the North; and The Cal- 
IFORNIAN has been enabled to give them to the public in a series of chapters, believing that many 
are of historical interest and value, and also as showing the singular life of a lady in one of the most 
out-of-the-way spots in this country. This chapter is illustrated with views of the great prison, 
the largest stone fort on the western continent. — Editor.] 

THE Fourth of July of i860 passed 
very quietly. Our greatest annoy- 
ances now were the delay of the 
mails and the scarcity of good things 
to eat. We wearied of canned food, 
and pined for fresh vegetables that 
were not. Even green grass to look 
at was at a premium. Green turtle and 
fish we had in abundance, and, occa- 
sionally, a pig was killed; but we 
longed for more variety. The fowls 
were poor from not having the proper 
food, and coral sand did not answer as 
a substitute for gravel. We sent to 
Key West, sixty miles away, for any 
and all kinds of vegetables that Cap- 
tain Wilson could find; but he returned 
with the word that there was nothing 
in Key West but a few onions, whicii 
were quoted at one dollar per small 

We had excellent rainwater to 
drink, caught during the rainy season 
in large reservoirs. Ice was an un- 
known quantity on the Key, and twenty 
cents a pound in Key West. If we 
had ordered it, and there had not 
been a stifi" breeze, it would simply 
have resulted in our providing the 
boat's crew with ice water, and having 
the pleasure of paying for it ; so we 
kept our drinking-water in porous 
jars called monkeys, which hung in 
the shade, keeping it sufficiently cool. 

The butter would have been benefited 
by ice if we could have kept it all the 
time, but to be frozen one day and 
dealt out with a spoon the next would, 
in all probability, have had a bad 
effect upon it; so we kept it in as cool 
a place as we could find, and it was a 
test of the temperature whether a knife 
or a spoon was placed by the side of 
the butter dish. It was usually a feast 
or a famine, and just at that date the 
latter state seemed to prevail. 

The flour grew poor; the weevils 
shared it with us ; we could see them 
flying in the air near the casemate 
where a quantity of flour was stored. 
We grew hungry for even some of the 
lean things of the land; but we did 
not lose our spirits or cheerfulness. 
The first of August a steamer arrived 
with our own private stores of canned 
fruits and vegetables from New York, 
and, better yet, with news of an appro- 
priation for the forts, which meant more 
comforts in the way of livestock and 
new life generally. 

The mail boat brought us bananas, 
fresh beans and, best of all, a box of 
good things from home; and to say 
that we were excited and happy 
rather proved that we were previously 
in much the same state Aunt Eliza 
complained of when I tried to hurry 
her, — " stagnated." 




During August and September we 
had a succession of fearful thunder- 
storms that frightened me more than 1 
cared to admit. They continued for 
nine days in succession. Ivven the 
old fishermen acknowledged them to 
be unusually severe. The thunder 
echoed and reverberated through the 
arches so that it seemed as though the 
whole fort was going to tumble down 
about our heads. 

The heat was intense, and the mos- 
quitoes distracting. As the Tortugas 
brought no mail, a month without 
letters was almost as trying as going 
without food. August found us in low 

Finally the transport arrived, bring- 
ing us fresh beef, the first we had seen 
in four months; and, having some 
onions and potatoes, we feasted. The 
great delay was thus explained by 
Captain Wilson: he had purchased 
some fresh meat for the fort, and was 
all ready to sail when a squall came 
up without warning ; and he was 
obliged to take it back to the butcher's 
ice-box and wait for the gale to subside. 
When it had spent itself he made an- 
other purchase; but the elements were 
in a capricious mood, and, fearing a 
calm would be as disastrous to his 
cargo as a gale, he again appealed to 
the butcher, who this time refused to 
take it back, and it was packed in ice, 
we reaping the benefit. 

Aunt Eliza often spoke of "broil- 
ing her brains it was so hot." I now 
felt that it might almost be possible. 

The rainstorms continued up to 
October, but more gently; yet to the 
north of us a number of wrecks were 

It did not take much to rouse the 
residents of the island to a state of 
excitement; and when the Tortugas 
came back one morning, after having 
started for Key West, with a deserted 
wreck in tow, a crowd soon assembled. 

It was a sad .sight. Both masts were 
gone, and there was a great hole in the 
side which had been stopped with the 
bedding. The rudder was gone, but they 
had made a temporary one, which sug- 

gested that the crew had survived the 
worst of the gale and been taken off, 
which was the case, as we heard that 
a vessel from New Orleans, bound for 
Iviverpool, picked them up and landed 
them in Havana. 

There were fifteen on board the hap- 
less craft, some women and children. 
The vessel was from Trinidad, bound 
for Cuba, loaded with fruits in glass 
jars, and wines, which were aftenA-ards 
sold in Key West. Several dismantled 
vessels went into Key West that could 
not make our harbor. One that was 
spoken was out of water and provi- 
sions. They hoped to make Key West, 
but, as they did not, it was feared the 
vessel went down. The gales at that 
season were to be dreaded as there was 
so little warning ; and yet they did not 
call them hurricanes, which they were 
to all intents and purposes. Even 
Aunt Eliza began to tire of the Dry 

She was evidently in a " low-down 
state," as she announced one daj^ that 
she was " De only one lef ' of all her 

Thinking she had heard s:-me bad 
news, I asked, "Where are your 
brothers ? ' ' 

"Oh," she replied, " dey is in Sa- 
banna, but dey might as well be dead; 
I neber see um 'gin," and she would 
' ' not las' long herself. De rheumatiz 
got above my knees now." Then she 
would take her pipe and smoke until 
she was dizzy. 

About the middle of October we had 
our first norther. The mercury fell 
from eighty-five to seventy-five de- 
grees; and we all took heart as we 
inhaled the cool air. 

Just before the norther a vessel 
drifted upon the reef ofi^ Eoggerhead. 
Had the norther held off a few hours 
even, she might have been floated, as 
the wrecking-smacks were trying to 
lighten her; but there was no hope 
after that. She was driven up where 
the sharp coral crushed a hole in her; 
and the water was soon even outside 
and in. 



There was a rumor that the vessel 
was allowed to float upon the reef, 
which would account for the wreckers 
being so promptly on hand. Such 
things had been done; but no one felt 
positive enough to make such an as- 
sertion openly. 

I was glad to have the hurricane 
season pass without a genuine one. 
As an example of the suddenness of 
the squalls, one day while we were at 
the dinner-table it grew suddenly dark; 
we rose, walked through the hall to 
look at the clouds, and before we could 
return to the foot of the stairs, half 
way from the front door, the squall 
struck the island with such violence 
that a chair, standing before a long 
window on the second floor, was blown 
across the room and hall and half way 
down the stairs, and the rooms flooded 
with water, while it grew so dark that 
we had to light the lamps. No wonder 
we were glad to have the season for 
such performances over. 

The irregularity of the mail was 
exasperating, as it was our only con- 
nection with the outer world; and to 
wait three weeks again for a letter 
or any news from the North made us 
almost desperate. 

The last detention was caused by a 
disabled steamer at the mouth of the 
Mississippi River; for our mails came 
in various ways, there being no regu- 
lar mail contract for Key West. The 
railroad was under water up the coast, 
so the mail was sent to Mobile to 
reach the New Orleans steamer. The 
schooner Tortugas waited a week for 
the mail, then started to come down 
without it, but sighting the steamer 
returned, even then being becalmed 
twenty-four hours in sight of Key 

A rumor now reached us that Cap- 
tain Woodbury was coming with Cap- 
tain Meigs* by the next boat, which 
meant a change in the command. 

We watched most anxiously for the 
boat, spending the afternoon on the 
ramparts with the glass; but the hori- 

* The late Quartermaster-General, General M. C. 

zon showed nothing that came out of 
the regular course to New Orleans un- 
til nearly night, when we discovered 
the black topmasts of what we thought 
was the Tortugas; but it was so calm 
there was no hope of her reaching us 
for hours. 

We could see the wreck away on the 
other side of the fort with its fleet of 
schooners looking like a harbor in the 
midst of the sea; but the darkness 
came on with the Tortugas scarcely any 
nearer. At ten o'clock there was no 
word, and by midnight we gave it up 
and went to bed, to be awakened by the 
watchman calling to the clerk of the 
office that the mail was in. Of course 
sleep was out of the question until I 
knew of the arrivals, and how I should 
manage if the guests had arrived. 

Captain Wilson had been ordered to 
have the flag at the peak if the strang- 
ers were on board, but in the darkness 
we could not see. After a while one 
pair of feet only came into our hall; 
and we soon heard that there was no 
mail, that Captains Woodbury and 
Meigs would come on the next boat, 
also that the mail contract had been 
given to the Isabel^ and that hereafter 
we could look forward to a regularity 
in the arrivals, — a great relief. 

Disturbing political rumors that for 
the past six weeks had been in the air 
without giving us any special uneasi- 
ness seemed to increase; yet we gave 
them little thought, considering them 
as evidences of a strong party feeling, 
perhaps increased by the nomination 
and election of Lincoln. 

Being surrounded by people of 
Southern sympathies, we heard little 
except their side of the question, and 
the one of appropriation for the forts. 
The latter was an all-important one to 
them, as, if it failed, there would be 
hundreds of slaves without employ- 
ment, — a serious matter to slave-owners 
who had to feed and clothe them. 

The next boat brought Captain 
Woodbury, Captain Meigs, his clerk, 
Dr. Gowland, and Mr. Howells as 

■> r. 

1 ; i\"; 



Captain Meigs accompanied him to 
Key West, returning by the next 
boat, which also brought a friend 
and her maid, to make me a long- 
promised visit, and my husband's 
brother,— the latter a most delightful 
surprise. My new cook proved a 
treasure; and all thife made quite a 
revolution, and for a few weeks I felt 
that civilization had overtaken us. 
My guest brought her beds for herself 
and maid, needing them on the boat; 
so that they were provided for. 

We enjoyed the bustle and commo- 
tion of people about us, and the return 
to some of the conventionalities of life, 
which so much time spent upon the 
water had interfered with. To add to 
the life infused by all this, a man-of- 
war, the Mohazi'k, Captain Craven,* 
came into the harbor. The following 
day I gave a dinner party of t^\-elye 
covers to Captain Craven and his 
ofl&cers. With a market sixt>' miles 
away, one's wits did extra duty. But 
the dinner was apparently a success, if 
one could judge by the appearance of 
the guests; and to us, who had been 
so long deprived of society, it was a 
delightful occasion. The next day the 
gentlemen took the Toriiigas dindv^^nt 
fishing, and the following week was a 
gay one for all. 

Threatening news came by the next 
boat. Sometimes when we heard Cap- 
tains Meigs and Craven, who were so 
recently from the active world, dis- 
cussing the state of feeling in the 
South, it made us a little apprehen- 
sive, but that soon passed away. The 
idea of a civil war seemed impos- 

A few weeks later it became so des- 
olate atTortugas that I accepted an 
invitation to visit Key West. 

The climate here was perfection at 
that season of the year, with much less 
wind than we had at Tortugas; and it 
was a delight to go about the streets, 
into real stores, and to visit people 
after our seclusion for so many 

* Captain Craven later went down with the Tecum- 
seh at Mobile Bay. 

During my visit Captain Craven 
arrived with two slave ships, captured 
off Havana, that had just started for 

The following day came the election 
for candidates to attend the Secession 
Convention held in Tallahassee. The 
secessionists were victorious, and an- 
nounced boldly that they would take 
Fort Taylor at Key West. 

Rumor also said there was no money 
in the State trea3ur>-; that the Gover- 
nor had taken it to send North for 

A rather decided secessionist told 
Captain Brannon, who was in com- 
mand of the fort, that they would 
stan,-e them out. His reply was that 
he could drop a ball into his house 
that would bring out all the provisions 
they wanted. 

I wondered at the good feeling 
where so much spirit was displayed, 
and tried not to be drawn into any 
discussion, as I could not believe there 
would be anything more than a war of 

The day before Christmas Mr. 
Philor placed his carriage at our ser\-- 
ice, and we drove to some gardens 
where all the trees and shrubs were 
new to us, a perfect tangle of tropical 
growth, even to a Banyan tree. Then 
we drove to the fort, which was the 
end of the drive in that direction, and 
to the barracoons where the slaves 
were kept until they could be sent to 
Africa. Those here were taken by 
the U. S. S. Powhatan some months 
before. It was a sorrowful sight, 
and brought home the horrors of 
slavery- more intensely than anything 
I had ever seen before. 

Christmas was more like a Xorthem 
fourth of July in temperature and 
noise. We attended ser\'ice in the 
morning, met numbers of our friends, 
and spent a most delightful day; and 
at night some of the oflScers of the 
Mohawk gave us a serenade that made 
a delightful ending to the holiday. 

Captain Meigs stopped on his re- 
turn from a trip to Havana, bringing 
the news of the secession of South 



Carolina, Captain Hunt joining him 
to talk over the outlook. It began 
to look cloud}' at least ; yet no one 
thought there would be civil war. 

The next Sunday a proclamation 
from the President was read in church 
" of a day for fasting and prayer" on 
account of national trouble and the 
prospect of a civil war. 

The few remaining days of our 
visit were spent in returning the calls 
of the many pleasant people who had 
entertained us. There were so many 
delightful people and homes it was sad 
to think what might result from the 
feeling that would show itself in spite 
of all courtesy. 

Captain Meigs and my husband 
talked of a trip to Tampa, after which 
we were to return to Tortugas, as we 
had already remained away longer 
than we intended. 

On Januan,' i, 1861, a rumor came 
that Mordaci, the owner of the Isabel, 
had offered her to Carolina for a man- 
of-war, our mail contract going with 

There was a cloud on the horizon 
that looked larger than a man's hand, 
and it affected our .spirits. People be- 
gan to be suspicious of their neighbors. 
Those who claimed to be Northern 
sympathizers owned their ser\'ants. 
There were many Southerners in Key 
West; but a goodl}- number were orig- 
inally from the North, who, dwelling 
many years in that climate, and own- 
ing simply their house ser\'ants, were 
doubtful whether, if Florida seceded, 
they ought not stand by the State of 
their adoption. The Northern resi- 
dents who did not own slaves were true 
Unionists from the first. The slave 
seemed to be the turning point. The 
Conchs, as the people from Bahama 
were called, were boisterous in their 
demonstrations of loyalty to the South ; 
but, at the first suggestion of their 
doing duty in case of necessit}-, they 
packed their goods and sailed for the 
British Isles. 

One morning the first news that 
greeted the gentlemen on the street 
was that the militia of the town had 

attempted to take Fort Taylor during 
the night. A futile effort, however, 
as Captain Brannon had sent the two 
companies of regulars from the bar- 
racks the night before after dark, leav- 
ing the harmless gun carriages covered, 
so that no one suspected the removal 
of the guns. Captain Hunt had 
turned the workmen into soldiers, 
and they had been employed all the 
previous day in taking the wharf away 
and everj' available means of entrance; 
so that an unexpected bath would have 
been the result of the attempt to gain 
entrance over the planks innocently 
leading to the open spaces. 

A great state of excitement now 
prevailed. Letters that were sent to 
Washington were opened and de- 
stroyed; and our own from the North 
were delaj^ed purposeh', and some- 
times not forwarded from Charleston, 
so that we began sending our mails 
north via Havana. 

I was beginning to weary of the 
very name of secession; for there was 
little else discussed, and it made us 
gloomy if we allowed ourselves to 
dwell upon the outlook, although no 
one 5-et admitted that there was to be 
a war. 

Affairs began to assume such a seri- 
ous aspect that Captains Meigs, Hunt 
and Brannon held a council on board 
the Mohawk, resulting in our leaving 
for Tortugas the next day. Captain 
Maffitt met with the oflBcers, but he 
resigned the next morning, leaving his 
ship there; he afterwards commanded 
the Confederate privateer Florida. 

There were joking remarks made by 
our friends that if we found the fort 
in possession of the secessionists we 
could return, — not in the least cheer- 
ing to us, although we treated them 
with as much levity as the}^ did ; but 
I think when we were near enough to 
our little island home to discern with 
a glass that the flag that floated over 
it was the stars and stripes it was a 
greater relief than, perhaps, an^^ of us 
wanted to acknowledge. 

Our defenseless situation was almost 
an invitation to the enemj'^ to capture 



us; and why they did not was rather a 
mystery. The Wyandotte, we heard, 
was on the way to take possession of 
both forts, and could have taken Fort 
Jefferson simply by steaming in and 
claiming it ; for there was not a gun 
on the island. 

Active work began on our return. 
A drawbridge was made and raised 
every night, all communication with 
the outside being cut off. 

The evening of the seventeenth of 
January Captain Meigs called, and I 
remember his reading Shakespeare 
aloud, and discussing some of the his- 

mostly from Connecticut; and there 
were then fourteen smacks in the har- 
bor. They came down every winter 
to fish, taking their catch to the Ha- 
vana market. 

Captain Meigs sent word to them 
not to pay it, and to the sheriff that 
he was Governor of that island, and he 
had better return to Key West. Then 
he sent Mr. Howells off privately that 
night to Key West for guns. He felt 
it was time to take the responsibility, 
even if he was censured for it. 

I asked if he apprehended any dan- 
ger. He looked at me as though he 

Sally-port and Drawbridge of Fort Jefferson, 

torical plays with my husband. They 
were both students of Shakespeare. 
In the midst of it Mr. Howells came 
in saying that the sheriff had arrived 
from Key West to arrest the fishermen, 
and they had sent for Captain Meigs 
to intercede for them. 

The facts of the case were that the 
State of Florida had made a new law 
that none of the fishermen could ob- 
tain a clearance to go to Havana with- 
out paying a fine or license of two or 
three hundred dollars. Of course they 
could not pay it ; and the object was 
to drive them home. They were 

were thinking whether it were best to 
alarm me, and said: " No, Madam, but 
I want to be prepared in case of emer- 
gency. If we had a few guns we 
should not be molested. Guns are not 
so much to use as to keep people 

He was the man for an emergency; 
and I think General Scott, instead of 
censuring him, praised his prompt ac- 
tion fully. 

The following morning, January i8, 
1 86 1, our excitement culminated in 
the news that a man-of-war was in 
sight, and steaming up the harbor. 



Every one was wild with excitement, 
running to the bastion with glasses to 
see what flag she floated; j-et even that 
might have been a deception if it 
proved to be the red, white and blue. 
But she carried no flag, a fact we con- 
sidered suspicious. 

Captain Meigs sent Dr. Gowland to 
meet them as they stopped outside the 
reef, sending a boat ashore in a spot 
known to us as ver>' dangerous, unless 
the navigators knew the channel ex- 
actly. It was a narrow opening in the 
reef, called the "five-foot channel," 
and only used by our small sail-boats. 
Dr. Gowland carried orders, that if 
they were enemies they could not land. 
A verbal resistance was the only one 
he could ofier; but as soon as the two 
boats met a signal was given to those 
on board the steamer, and the stars 
and stripes flew to the masthead. 
The feelings of those who were watch- 
ing from the fort can be better imag- 
ined than described; and none of us 
realized the tension we had been 
under until this relief came. 

It proved to be the steamer Joseph 
Whitney, with Major Arnold in com- 
mand, from Fort Independence, at 
Boston, with troops for our relief. 

The reception they received must 
have left no doubts in their minds 
regarding their welcome. We were 
more than overjoyed; and the commo- 
tion and excitement of unloading the 
steamer, for she was to return imme- 
diately, as her expense to the Govern- 
ment was six hundred dollars a da3% 
was something that tested the ability 
of every one. It did not take long to 
put us in a state of defense and every- 
thing in militarj^ order. We were now 
aroused at sunrise by the reveille. A 
sentinel walked in front of the guard- 
house, at the drawbridge, and one was 
posted in the lighthouse tower. 

Already our quiet life was a thing 
of the past. The large guns came 
from Kej^ West, were soon mounted, 
and we began to feel as though we 
were on a war footing. Yet with all 
this Major Arnold did not think there 
would be war, and we surely hoped 

not. The New Orleans boat was taken 
ofi", and our only method of sending 
and receiving mail was through 
Havana, where the schooner Tortugas 
was sent for it. 

The papers now received were old, 
but did duty all over the garrison. 
The ofl&cers would meet and discuss 
the prospects; but even the firing on 
the Star of the West in Charleston 
harbor did not convince Major Arnold 
that we would have war. 

I presume we heard strange rumors 
that never made an impression at the 
North, they were so quickly followed 
by others of greater importance. The 
news from Pensacola was warlike. 
Two thousand men surrounded the 
fort; and the commanding ofl&cer's 
wife going into town to do some 
shopping was taken as a spy and de- 
tained as a prisoner. It was said that 
the Senator from Florida, before he 
resigned, examined the plans of Fort 
Jefferson and Fort Taylor in Key 
West. Captain Meigs thought if he 
came there then he would find some- 
thing not in his cop}'. 

When Florida seceded she reap- 
pointed all the old Government 
officers ; and m}^ husband was told 
that under the new law he was a 
member of the Engineer Corps. 

Those were very exciting times to 
us, not that we expected to be at- 
tacked, but we were within the line of 
attraction. We heard that the officers 
in Washington had concluded to send 
their families out of the city. Captain 
Meigs advised his family to go to 
Philadelphia. How strange it seemed 
to think of such things in our own 

At this time two large ships-of-war 
came in bringing guns and news of 
more troops on the wa}-. One of the 
ships came from Portsmouth, N. H., 
where it was thirteen degrees below 
zero. Major Arnold said that he ex- 
pected to find us in the hands of the 
secessionists. General Scott gave him 
orders that if the fort had been taken 
to retake it if possible; if he failed, to 
cruise around Fort Jeflerson for sixty 



days, with the understanding that 
he was to be reinforced by a war 
steamer from Pensacola. January 2 2d 
the Mohawk came back to ply between 
Key West, Havana and Tortugas reg- 
ularly. All the able-bodied men had 
been put upon the roll, and guns and 
ammunition dealt out to them. At 
that time there were in the harbor 
two steamers of war, one side-wheel 
steamer, a revenue cutter, two barges 
and some dozen sloops and schooners. 
We were no longer out of the world; 
yet the steamer Magnolia from New 
Orleans stopped and left a month's 
collection of mail. 

The last of February brought news 
of the secession of six of the Southern 
States, and that a Southern confeder- 
acy had been formed at Montgomery, 
Ala., with Jefferson Davis as Presi- 
dent. On March fifth I^ieut. Gillman 
arrived with Major Tower of the Engin- 
eers, having arrived in Havana from 
New York just in time to come over 
in the Tortugas. Lieut. Gillman be